Wolf Unchained
by Kolibri Halliwell
Summary: Fenris has reached Kirkwall, the City of Chains, where he decides to make his final stand against his pursuers and finds unexpected help along the way. f!Hawke/Fenris romance in future chapters, rated M for strong language, violence and sexual themes.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** So.. this is the first piece of fiction that I have written in 9 years. I'm just putting that out there so that you can be a bit gentle with me. I've read a lot of great Fenris/Hawke fiction lately which has inspired me to give this a try. :) I hope you like it, and I plan on adding to this story soon.

**Disclaimer:** Fenris, Hawke and all other characters in this story are owned by Bioware. I'm just here to play with them.

**Wolf Unchained, Chapter 1**

The chains greeted him as the ship slowly began its approach into the city. A bitter laugh escaped his lips at the irony of this symbolic reminder of his past, a past that he was forever running from without any hope of truly escaping it. The chains were enveloping the great and solid building of the Gallows of Kirkwall, surrounding its frame and resting heavily on its sides as a constant reminder to its inhabitants that they will never be free. Fenris gazed down at his hands, feeling the power of his lyrium brands coursing through his veins, knowing that these were his own magical chains and his eternal curse. He would never be free of them, and he would never stop feeling their weight and the pain they caused him. His shoulders slumped slightly at this dismal thought and a wave of misery and anger rushed over him. A salty sea breeze rustled his silver white hair as he glanced at the Gallows once more and the mages that resided there, his lips parting in a snarl.

"I hope you all rot in hell," he spat out, the venom in his voice full of bitterness and hatred. This earned him a lot of suspicious looks from the other inhabitants of the cabin, filthy and flea-ridden degenerate refugees that had come to Kirkwall, just like him, trying to escape the inevitable. The refugees shuffled away from him distinctly, giving him as wide a berth as was humanly possible in the dark hold of the ship, but Fenris did not seem to notice. His gaze was still fixated on the approaching tower that loomed over the ship. He had seen many similar buildings in Tevinter, and he knew that they held mages as prisoners here, rather than allowing them to rule over society, as he had been used to back in his old life in Minrathous. A feral and desperate grin spread across his face which unbeknownst to him made him look utterly insane.

Suddenly Kirkwall did not seem like such a bad place, Fenris mused as he observed the Templars who patrolled the building and its grounds. The anger and hatred in his heart was still raw, rising just below the surface, but he managed to control it by imagining all those helpless magisters, locked away in this tower for life, and the satisfaction this image gave him was deep and effective. This is where they belonged, along with their terrible and inhumane powers, locked away from the rest of the world for eternity. Here they could not lord their magic over humanity, using it to control the will of others and punishing them with it at their slightest whim. Here lives were not governed by magic, but by the power and strength of endurance and determination. Perhaps this was a place where a man could find a new life, a slave a reason to live. Fenris curled his hand into a fist, surpresing another surge of power from the lyrium inside him. He did not know how long his journey would keep him in Kirkwall, but he could definitely see the potential of this place and this comforted him somewhat.

The ship finally docked and Fenris briskly stepped out on dry land, blinking at the bright sunshine of the morning that momentarily blinded him. He was immediately surrounded by a plethora of sounds and smells that attacked him from every direction. Refugees were unloading their belongings from the ship, merchants were overseeing the transportation of their wares on the backs of enormous mules, fishermen were laughing jovially and shouting greetings to each other, carefully avoiding the swooping attacks of the occasional seagull that spotted a flapping fish in their mended nets. Fenris blended into this crowd without much difficulty as he began his journey towards the centre of the city; pretending to be invisible was something he had done for most of his life at the behest of others, and he had become increasingly efficient at it, despite his unusual appearance.

The city continued to unfold in front of his eyes as he walked along its grimy and dusty streets – every imperfection, every peel of paint was plainly visible in the strong morning sun. Fenris observed it all without giving it much thought. He had seen it all before, and he knew what all these big cities were like – a rotting, dying husk in the desert, surrounded by vultures that wanted to make the most of its corpse. Yet there was life here as well, and the pulse of the city grew strong around him, sweeping him away into the bowels of Lowtown. Later during the day he found himself nursing a jug of ale in a bar called The Hanged Man, which seemed particularly filthy and full of inane drunkards that seemed to have nothing better to do than to harass the waitress, Norah, with their ridiculous requests and groping hands. Yet Fenris did not mind the feel of this place, because he knew how incredibly useful these bars were for picking up interesting tidbits of information that might not be heard anywhere else. He pricked his sharp elven ears in the direction of a couple of men playing cards on the table closest to the bar, dockworkers by the sound of it. He listened to their conversation while continuing to casually sip his drink.

"Did yer hear about the ship that's s'posed to dock tonight?" One of the men said while throwing a couple of coins on the table. "S'posed to come all the way from Tevinter, with slavers and all," he continued. "I hear them Tevinter magisters can be a right pain in the arse to deal with," he said with a grin. "Too bad yer working tonight, eh Tommy?"

One of the other men, presumably called Tommy, scowled while looking down at his cards. "I don't mind earnin' more coin while you're fillin' Corff's pockets with yours here at the bar," he retorted and threw some money of his own in the pot. "Raise you five, George. You always were a terrible liar."

"Rubbish!" The man named George exclaimed, looking only slightly offended as he glanced at his hand. "I just hope yer can earn enough tonight so I can take it all off yer tomorrow. I'll see yer five, and raise yer ten. Whatcha goin' to do 'bout that now?"

"Damn you George, you're going to flay me alive if you keep that up," the third man folded with a groan and leaned back in his chair while he sipped on his ale. "And I hope the Knight-Commander locks those damn Tevinters up where they belong, in the blighted Gallows. Damn mages running amok with slaves! Makes me sick to the stomach, it does."

"Wasn't yer grandmother a mage, Pete? Fancy like casting a spell on yer cards? It might make them a far sight better!" George howled with laughter, to which Pete unceremoniously decided to empty the contents of his jug on George's head. The latter cried out in surprise, coughed and threw the table with all its contents on its side, after which all three men tumbled to the ground in a good-natured brawl with hands and feet flying everywhere. Seeing how few heads turned to look at the commotion, Fenris suspected that this was a very common occurrence at The Hanged Man. It also created a perfect diversion which allowed him to slip out of the bar unnoticed, into the deepening dusk of the evening. Once more he prowled the streets, breathing in the salty sea air and the strange mixture of spices and leather that seemed to linger in it.

So soon. They had found him so soon. He knew that this could not be a coincidence. He had no illusions about the fact that he was running on borrowed time, and that the slavers were hunting him mercilessly, hounding his heels wherever he went, no matter how far he tried to run away from them. They were driven by the bounty that Danarius had placed on his head, and the desire to prove their own worth to one of the most powerful magisters of Tevinter. He understood that feeling very well, because that same desire had been a part of his life for as long as he could remember.

Until he could no longer accept the monster that he had become. Until he started running from his old life, from himself, from everything that he had done, everything he had been forced to do.

And everything he had enjoyed doing.

Suddenly Fenris found himself standing by the docks once more. There were far less people around now, as most of the stalls had already closed for the day and all the merchants had packed up their wares and returned to their homes. Only a few dockworkers were seen here and there, smoking, talking lowly under their breaths, and sometimes casting a curious glance in his direction. He was aware that he was very conspicuous standing there with his lyrium markings clearly visible, seemingly easy prey for a group of slavers, like the kind that was going to dock here later tonight and begin their hunt for him through the city. A strange feeling rumbled inside him and his whole body tensed as he fought his age-old instinct of flight. As he looked up at the sea and watched the last slivers of sunlight slowly disappear behind the edge of the horizon, his eyes started filling with quiet determination.

"I will... not.. run... from you... any.. more," he growled quietly under his breath, threatening the horizon with his deadly stare. His fists were clenched, his back straight in a posture of defiance that defined him and the man he had become, although he was not aware of it. All he was aware of was the fire burning inside him, the hatred that filled his heart, and the weariness that gripped and tugged at his aching bones. He was tired of running away from the man who had made him into this monster, the man who haunted his dreams and every waking moment of his life. He could not run from his past any more, or the terrible things that lurked in the shadows of his memory. Standing at the edge of the sea, Fenris made a solemn promise to stand and fight, here in this City of Chains, until he was dead or his foes lay dying beneath his feet. He knew that he was likely going towards his own demise, but that thought strangely did not seem to bother him. Instead, he was suddenly filled with an enormous sense of relief and his body surged with savage pleasure at the thought of finally taking the fight to his pursuers and showing them that he was no longer afraid. It was very likely that they would defeat him in the end, but Fenris knew that he would not allow himself to be taken easily, and certainly not alive. He grinned at this thought as he turned around and disappeared back into the shadows of the city.

This former slave had finally come here to make his last stand.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:** Thank you so much for your kind comments and encouragements! I seem to be on a roll when it comes to this story because I can't stop writing, and I hope you guys will continue to enjoy reading this. :)

**Disclaimer:** Fenris, Hawke and all other characters in this story are owned by Bioware. I'm just here to play with them.

**Wolf Unchained, Chapter 2**

The moon was out tonight and Fenris felt like raising his head and howling at it. Adrenaline was pumping through his veins, making him feel incredibly exhilarated and filling him with an intense feeling of pleasure. This is how being in a battle always made him feel, and since he had never been with a woman – as far as he remembered - he had never known another sensation quite like it. Fighting and killing were two of the most enjoyable things Fenris could think of, and he was incredibly good at both – something the man that he was currently holding at choke point was very aware of indeed.

"Where is he?" Fenris snarled at the man, his face twisted in disgust. He hated these slavers wholeheartedly for everything they represented, everything they felt justified in taking away from people like him for the single reason of profit. The fact that he himself paid no heed to the consequences of his actions did not seem to cross his mind – he had other things to worry about, such as staying alive. His fingers pressed deeper into the man's throat, leaving painful marks in their wake as they increased the pressure on his neck. He knew that he could kill the slaver with a simple twist of his fingers, and the adrenaline in his veins urged him on to do just that, but the possible revelation of Danarius' location stayed his eager hand for another moment. "Where is he, you son of a bitch? Where is your master?"

The man's bulging eyes widened in response, his face turning purple as he gasped desperately for breath, his fingers digging, scraping pleadingly at Fenris' legs. Fenris barked out a sadistic laugh and released the pressure on the man's throat for a moment while he went down on one knee. Instead, he dug his fingers into the slaver's hair and pulled at it mercilessly until his head was leaning back against Fenris' bent knee. "Tell me where he is or I swear these will be your last miserable moments on this Earth," he hissed, his breath only inches away from the slaver's face, his own glowing fiercely from the lyrium that burned within him like an unquenchable fire.

The man seemed to be in a state of utter dread, his skin covered with a layer of sweat, his breathing raspy and shallow as he fought to inhale every breath of air. His eyes were wide with terror; the elf's pale and determined face was all he could see. Fenris could smell the stench of this man, and he wrinkled his nose at the unpleasant odour. "He's.. in a mansion, in.. Hightown," the slaver wheezed, looking at the elf pleadingly. "I haven't been there myself, I was paid upfront two days ago, outside.. the Blooming Rose," he coughed and closed his eyes, a tear slowly running down his face in exhaustion and fear. "I haven't seen your master, I swear on my mother's life," he whispered, exhaling a trembling breath as he looked up again.

"Who paid you?" Fenris asked lowly, tightening the grip on the man's hair, pulling it back further, the strands ripping away from his scalp. "Who paid you to hunt me down, you miserable sack of shit?"

"It was... another magister!" The slaver desperately cried out in pain, unable to keep his terror at bay any longer."I had never seen her before! We were never told her name! Oh please dear Maker, please... just let me live!"

"Your Maker can't hear you, not now, not ever again," Fenris growled deep in his throat. The metallic touch of his gloved fingers slid down the slaver's neck until they found the pressure point they were looking for and twisted sharply, bones snapping in an instant. The man's cries ended abruptly, his body sliding down to the ground as Fenris pushed it away from him in disgust and rose to his feet. The clear light of the crescent moon shone behind him as he stood above the dead man, his silhouette standing out like a tall shadow rising out of the darkness. "Pathetic," he growled as he looked down at the slaver, and then glanced around the dark alley at the other dead bodies that surrounded him, all left in various stages of mutilation. His own armour was soaked in blood, yet he did not seem to mind because none of it was his own. These men had been too slow to even have a chance at hurting him; he had felt like a ghost in their midst, swinging his blade in a powerful arch before they even considered dodging his deadly blows. They had attempted to ambush him here, yet it had turned out that he had done a better job at that instead. He had seen them coming from a mile away and had found their tracking skills absolutely appalling; it was obvious that these were no Tevinter slavers; only local hirelings that his master had picked up somewhere after his arrival in Kirkwall. This was the third group of slavers that had crossed his path in two days, and so far Fenris was making mince meat out of them all without much effort on his part at all.

"You are no match for me. Danarius will simply have to try harder," he said scornfully to his dead pursuers while wiping the blood off his sword on their clothes. Once he had finished cleaning the blade he sheathed it on his back and stepped back into the quiet streets of Darktown, leaving the smell of corpses that were already beginning to rot behind him. Vultures would take care of them soon, and their belongings would not go to waste in a city that was full of starving children, although Fenris had already searched their pockets and taken most of their coin for himself. Desperate times called for desperate measures, and he didn't see anything wrong with taking blood money from slavers that had been paid to hunt him down and kill him. They had failed in their task and were not worthy of it any more – and he needed it to stay alive.

Darktown was the most miserable part of Kirkwall that he had visited so far and here he strangely felt most at home. The sounds of the helpless and the poor reminded him of the many alienages he had seen in Minrathous while following Danarius around town as his personal bodyguard; his thoughts now often lingered on those moments, wondering if his own family had been among those poor wretched souls, wishing that he could go back and search for them, find out if they were still alive. He almost immediately set these thoughts aside and locked them away in the darkest recesses of his mind; he knew that wondering about the past was unhealthy. What was done was done, and all he could do was look towards the future – such as it was. For the moment, Fenris dared not look beyond the moment he would have the pleasure of ripping out his master's heart and throwing it to the vultures of this city; it was nothing less than what he deserved, along with everyone who served him.

However, first things first – he had a Hightown mansion to scout and a battle plan to prepare. Although he had had no trouble defeating the slavers thus far he was not naïve enough to believe his luck would last. As he began his journey toward the most affluent area of Kirkwall, Fenris grudgingly began to admit to himself that he might have to try and seek out assistance after all, and the very thought of it made him cringe.

_Meanwhile, in Hightown..._

"You have got to be kidding me!" Hawke exclaimed in exasperation as she kicked a crate across the ground and accidentally set it on fire in her anger, unable to control the power that flowed from her hands. It also seemed that magic wasn't the only thing Marian Hawke wasn't able to control in a fit of anger. "I can't fucking believe that bitch Athenril would decide to cross me – and of all the bloody opportunities she's had to do it, she chooses to do it now?" She paced furiously back and forth across the Hightown courtyard, small flames dancing on her fingertips, eager to form into another fireball at Hawke's slightest whim. Her eyes flashed furiously as she continued her tirade, completely unaware of the commotion she was causing. "I swear, I'm going to hunt her down and show her _exactly_ what happens when I stick a fireball up her-"

"Hawke!" Varric watched this outburst with increasing worry as he spotted a patrol of guards moving in their direction. "Not that not I'm _dying_ to know why your dear smuggler friend decided to royally screw us over, but, you know, it might be a good idea to take this party some place less full of.. oh, Aveline! Good to see you, my old friend!"

The woman in question approached the party with swift and determined steps, her eyes full of concern as she observed the pacing Hawke. "I'll catch up in a minute, you go on ahead!" She shouted as she looked over her shoulder at her fellow guardsmen. Once they had turned a corner and disappeared out of sight, she turned and gave Varric a stern stare. "That's a bit of a stretch coming from you, Varric," she said coolly with one eyebrow raised as she crossed her arms. "Especially seeing as I've only known you for a few weeks. Unfortunately, I've also spent most of that time cleaning up whatever mess you and Hawke tend to get into these days. Isn't that right, Marian?" She raised her voice as she asked her question, finally getting Hawke's attention.

"Aveline!" Hawke spun around on her heels at the sound of her friend's voice, abruptly stopping in her tracks, the flames mercifully extinguished from her fingertips for the time being.

Aveline's gaze lingered on Hawke's face for a long moment, which seemed to calm her down. "Is everything alright, Hawke?" She asked slowly and quietly, her voice dripping with caution.

Marian sighed and lowered her head as she ran her fingers through her dark red hair in frustration. The look Aveline was giving her suddenly made her realise how foolishly she had acted only a moment ago. Having a magical temper tantrum in a public place, even if it was late at night, was definitely high on an apostate's not-to-do list if she wished to remain unseen – and Hawke began to think that she was doing a terrible job at that. She almost began feeling grateful for the fact that she had left her staff – and her brother – at home. Carver would've had a fit if he had seen her in this state. But Carver also didn't have the burden of responsibility of arranging an expedition into the Deep Roads in a city full of backstabbing bastards. Her own foolishness and the humiliation of being reprimanded by her friend so openly made her anger flare up again, so she looked back up at Aveline, her stubborn chin pushing out.

"No Aveline, everything is _not_ alright," she snapped. "I just got betrayed by someone I used to work for, someone I thought I could trust-"

"Was it Athenril?" Aveline cut her off sharply, her look of disapproval increasing. "Hawke, what else could you expect from a smuggler? I told you the day we arrived in Kirkwall that working for her was a bad idea, and yet here you are-"

"And yet here I am, trying to make a living," Hawke retorted and moved closer to Aveline, her eyes blazing again. "We all don't have the benefit of working for the local government, Aveline. Some of us have to use less than pleasant means to get by in this town. I suppose you would have preferred it if I had become a mercenary, killing people for coin?" She finished hotly, her demeanour showing that she dared Aveline to defy her. Her temperament was still raging from the betrayal she had not been expecting, and for now she was happy to pick a fight with just about anyone.

Her friend, unfortunately, would have none of it. "You should know better than that, Hawke," Aveline said as she looked at her, her clear honesty once again putting out Hawke's flames of anger as quickly as they had flared up. They stood silently for a moment, looking at each other. Finally Hawke couldn't keep Aveline's gaze any longer and she looked away with a sigh.

"The silent treatment, is it? Oh, I hate the silent treatment," she said jokingly and fidgeted with her robes. When she looked up again, Aveline was smiling.

"Just make sure you're more careful next time, Hawke," the guards-woman said as she turned around to leave. "We don't want the Knight-Commander to be cracking down on apostates more than she already is, now do we? See you later, Varric. Keep her out of trouble, will you?"

"Oh you know me, Aveline! Hawke is always safe in my company," Varric chuckled under his breath as he watched the guard leave, but not before she shot a final dubious look in the dwarf's direction. "Safe and snug as a bug in a rug," he drawled as he began motioning Hawke toward the Blooming Rose. The brothel's colourful lanterns shone invitingly in the darkness, brightening up what otherwise seemed to be a gloomy evening. "Come on now, Hawke, I think you need a drink before we move on to our next appointment. Perhaps next time you and Aveline could repeat that lovely encounter in more suitable circumstances.. preferably in a mudbath?"

"Varric!" Hawke exclaimed and shot a shocked look at the dwarf as he was ushering her through the entrance of the brothel. His satisfied laughter was the last thing that was heard before the door slammed shut behind them.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note:** I can't believe that so many people are reading this story, and I'm so grateful for all your kind and encouraging comments! Every time I write a chapter they seem to be getting longer, and this trend is rather beginning to amuse me. :P I apologize in advance for the lack of Fenris in this chapter, but I promise to make it up for you in the next one. Hawke wanted to come out and play. :)

**Disclaimer:** Fenris, Hawke and all other characters in this story are owned by Bioware. I'm just here to play with them.

**Wolf Unchained, Chapter 3**

The fragrant smell of spirits and strong perfume hit Hawke like a wave as she and Varric stepped into the entrance hall of the Blooming Rose. "Please remind me again what we're doing here, Varric?", she said with a sigh as they walked through the doors into the main area of the brothel. The room was full of customers who mostly seemed to be flocking around the bar, surrounded by whores that cast wistful looks in their direction, throwing the occasional filthy compliment to the passers by.

"We're here to see what improvements we can make to this foul mood of yours, dear lady," Varric said pointedly as he signaled the waitress to come serve them at their table. "I know that you were expecting your smuggler friend to come through for us, but hey, to take a leaf from Carver's book – shit happens. You can't let these things get you down like this, or else we'll never get this expedition off the ground. Now stop moping and order a drink from the pretty waitress," Varric finished with a sly grin as he glanced up at the woman who had approached their table. The waitress, however, seemed to completely ignore Varric's smooth advances by looking blankly ahead of her. She had undoubtedly heard a lot more flattering remarks during her time at the brothel.

"Welcome to the Blooming Rose," she drawled while leaning over to wipe the remains of some spittle off the table with a cloth. "My name is Viveka, what can I get for you this evening?"

Varric, completely unfussed by the rebuke, tilted his head to get a good look at the woman's ample cleavage. Hawke observed this with a mixture of amusement and disgust. "We'll just have two beers please," she said while intently studying her nails. "And perhaps a spittoon for my friend here? Some of his dribble will undoubtedly end up on the table," she looked up at the dwarf with a smirk as the waitress walked away to deal with their order.

"Hawke, I'm insulted! To think that I would ever betray Bianca's trust like that!" Varric chuckled as he removed the crossbow from his back and put it gently on the table, stroking it with immense affection. "You simply must have me mistaken for someone else – I am a one crossbow man."

Hawke grinned and slowly shook her head. This had been a running joke between the two of them ever since they had met a couple of weeks ago and Varric had recruited Hawke and her brother for the Deep Roads expedition. She knew that he was incredibly attached to his crossbow, and she couldn't help but tease him about the fact that he seemed to treat an inanimate object with more love and attention than any human beings. Yet he had become something of a stable rock to Hawke and she had come to appreciate his company, along with all his quirks. She knew that she could always count on Varric for a sly remark at the right moment, as well as a pragmatic attitude toward the kind of jobs they were taking on to earn money for the expedition, and this was something she could no longer expect from her own family.

The rift between her and her brother Carver only seemed to be growing, and she was too worried about her family's finances to discuss it with her mother, let alone her degenerate uncle Gamlen who had gambled away her family's fortunes while Hawke and her family had lived in Ferelden. Hawke glanced around the brothel, half expecting to spot him sitting at his usual place at the bar, but thankfully this night seemed to be one of the rare occasions when Gamlen had decided to stay at home – probably due to lack of coin.

"So now that we've been cheated out of another business deal by my good-for-nothing former employer," Hawke began while taking a cautious sip of her beer, which had been brought by Viveka almost immediately, "Where do you propose we go next, Varric?"

"The Hanged Man," Varric replied almost instantly after taking an appreciative gulp of his beverage and wiping the foam off his upper lip. "There's always work to be found somewhere in Lowtown, and the Hanged Man is the best place to find it. But we're not leaving this fine establishment until we pour some more drinks down your throat and put that smile back on your face. You know I hate seeing you down in the dregs like this. Come on, stop playing around with that beer and finish it off, woman!"

"Why here?" Hawke enquired after emptying her jug in one fell swoop, to which Varric burped in appreciation. "We could just go drinking at the Hanged Man, there's nothing wrong with the-" She stopped herself, suddenly bursting into laughter. "Oh who am I kidding, you've got to be a nug humper to drink what they've got in those kegs," she giggled while moving on to her next drink.

The beer seemed to be doing the trick, Varric thought to himself with amusement as he signaled Viveka for another round. It was good to see Hawke lighten up for a little while, even if it was done through artificial means. He had never seen her drink more than a pint, but something about this last failed job must have unhinged her a little, which he found rather interesting. Perhaps she would be more likely to tell him about her past if he got her through her next couple of beers, and the dwarf had a feeling that if he managed to get her talking he would be in for a most interesting story indeed.

_Three hours, many beers, and some Fereldan shanties later_

"No Varric, I refuse to play darts with you," Hawke said decisively while pouring herself another pint from the large jug that was now simply left on the table. Some of the liquid missed the glass, but she didn't seem to notice. Her cheeks were flushed with colour and her bright bluegray eyes were filled with a feverish glow. "You've had too much practice with that crossbow and you beat me every time and then steal all my coin in wagers," she continued in a drawling voice, shooting an accusatory look in the dwarf's direction. "And that's simply not fun," she nodded severely, inspecting the wood grain pattern of the table with amusing intensity.

"What else are we going to do for entertainment then, when you refuse to tell me your story?" Varric asked plainly, spreading out his hands in front of him. "I'm left to take desperate measures! You don't even let me buy you a nice time with that whore over there, I swear she's been looking in your direction all evening..."

"No whores!" Hawke declared, perhaps a bit too loudly, as several heads turned in her direction and the brothel's owner, Madam Lusine, pursed her lips and pressed her hands into her sides, looking at both Hawke and Varric with growing annoyance. "You know I don't do that kind of thing Varric, Andraste's tits, why did you even bring me here?"

"I'm beginning to wonder that myself," Varric mumbled under his breath as he shot an apologetic smile in Madam Lusine's direction and gave her a friendly wave. She shook her head and pointed at Hawke, motioning for Varric to get her out. The dwarf sighed and looked back at his new Fereldan accomplice, realising that his grand plan to cheer her up and perhaps find out a bit more about her had not worked out so well. Sure, he had found out that Hawke preferred the apple cider to the regular brew and that the girl actually had a rather lovely singing voice and had a good memory for remembering old Fereldan shanties, but other than that she still remained an almost complete mystery to him; not even all the drink in the Rose seemed to loosen Hawke's tongue about her past. Varric didn't know whether he admired her for it, or whether it annoyed the hell out of him – he figured it was probably a little bit of both.

"Alright Hawke, no whores," he promised her solemnly while pushing the jug of ale away from her grasping hands. "And no more drink for you either, unfortunately, because Madam Lusine is giving us the evil eye and I think we better make ourselves scarce before we're barred from this lovely establishment for life."

"Oh.. right," Hawke said, slowly grasping the meaning of Varric's words. "Well then, I guess we're off to the Hanged Man now, right?" She exclaimed with false enthusiasm, suddenly standing up from her chair and almost falling over, if Varric had not shot out a hand to balance her. "There's more work to be found in this lovely city, and I'll be damned if I'll let Athenril and her crew rob me of those... opportunities," she finished, carefully spelling the last word and then grinning to herself with satisfaction.

"You won't have to wait that long, Hawke!" A low, barking voice suddenly exclaimed, cutting through the chatter of whores and their customers, leaving the Blooming Rose completely silent.

Hawke blinked and looked around for the source of the commotion, grasping the back of her chair for stability; she was unpleasantly surprised to find that her legs were not fully holding her weight anymore. She cleared her throat while scanning the crowd, searching for whoever had called out to her. She did not have to wait long until he appeared. It was a large and muscular man who was slowly going bald, dressed in black leathers and armour, and he was wading through the entrance of the brothel with a company of six strong and threatening men behind him, armed to the teeth.

"Oh shit, here comes trouble," Varric swore and picked up his crossbow from the table. "Meeran, long time no see!" He shouted out jovially while arming Bianca with exceptional speed. "I see you're still as ugly as ever," he added and flashed the mercenary a charming grin.

"Piss off, dwarf," Meeran sneered and turned to face Hawke. "Did you really think you were going to get away with cheating the Red Irons out of profit, wench?" He spat out, his eyes condescendingly wandering over her body, taking in the sorry state she was in. "You can't hide behind Athenril's skirts anymore, especially now that you've drunk yourself to a stupor!"

"Oh Meeran, when will you ever get over the fact that I simply didn't feel like killing people for you that day?" Hawke said lightly while looking around, taking in her surroundings and searching for escape routes, things that she could use to her advantage, anything to get out of this alive. "I felt a lot more comfortable taking a noble's money for sparing his life than taking yours for ending it. Sorry to disappoint you, but shouldn't you just move on already? Brooding is so unhealthy for you, or so I've heard."

Her head began to clear rapidly at the prospect of getting sliced and diced in front of several dozen of Rose customers. She wished she had her staff with her, but using magic so openly would still be far too dangerous; if she started throwing fireballs around her the Rose would burn down to the ground in a matter of hours, and the Templars would be waiting for her at home, ready to take her to the Gallows. Marian had long since learned to take care of herself without the use of magic, and she silently thanked the Maker that she was wearing full body armour under her robes. The alcohol in her blood promised her an easy victory, but she chose to ignore that fleeting promise and focus on what she had at hand.. which was nothing more than the back of a chair.

"I'll cut out your arrogant tongue and feed it to the urchins, you slut! No one crosses the Red Irons and gets away with it!" Meeran howled with anger and withdrew his blade. "On her, boys!"

"Didn't your mother teach you to play nice with girls?" Hawke retorted quickly and gripped the chair behind her, swinging it straight into the path of an oncoming mercenary. It hit the man full in the face and knocked him out cold in an instant. After that, everything seemed to happen in a matter of seconds.

Meeran stared down at the man in disbelief. "You Fereldan bitch!" He cried out in outrage and lunged for her with a sword while three other men were trying to flank her on both sides of the table. Hawke dodged the swing of Meeran's blade while grabbing the half-filled jug of ale from the table. "Here, have a drink!" She laughed and threw its contents in the mercenary's face. While Meeran was wiping the contents off his face, Hawke rolled over on her side, giving the table a sharp kick and breaking off one of its legs. Now equipped with a formidable weapon, she used the table for cover while swinging out and breaking the kneecap of one of Meeran's men, making him slump down to the floor and howl in terrrible pain.

"Watch out Hawke, behind you!" Varric shouted sharply. Hawke turned around, only to see another mercenary falling down with an arrow sticking out of his left eye. Varric cackled with satisfaction.

"Nice one!" Hawke grinned while parrying a dagger attack from her left with the wooden table leg. The blade grazed her skin and a sharp pain travelled through her arm, but Marian had no time to think about it as she kicked her attacker right in the shins, sending him reeling. Meeran had recovered by then and had dropped his sword to the floor, withdrawing a pair of handaxes and throwing one of them sharply at Hawke. She only had a moment to react, grabbing the man to her left, who was still gasping sharply at her unexpected shin attack, and pushing him in front of her as a body shield. The axe hit the man straight in the chest. As Meeran was readying the second axe, Varric whistled sharply and distracted him for only a moment, but that was all Hawke needed. As Meeran turned to look at the dwarf, the leg of the table struck him savagely on the side of his head, connecting with his temples and shattering on impact. He didn't even have a chance to face Hawke before falling to the floor, unconscious.

"Hey Hawke, what about those two?" Varric said, tilting his head in the direction of the two mercenaries that were still alive and not writhing on the floor in pain. "Bianca wants to greet them something awful, you know."

Marian looked at the men, who were still staring at their now-unconscious employer, their weapons half-raised in battle stances. "Is this prick really worth dying for?" She asked them as calmly as she could, her breasts heaving after the heat of the battle. The mercenaries looked at each other and then back at Hawke, slowly shaking their heads. "Didn't think so," Hawke spat out scornfully and bent down to pluck out Bianca's arrow from one of the dead men's eyes. "Now run along and let's hope we don't have to do this again anytime soon, yes?" The mercenaries were already backing out of the Blooming Rose, sheathing their weapons as they went, when they suddenly turned around and escaped through the open doors, pushing an elf out of their way as they ran out into the Hightown night. Hawke's gaze drifted back to Meeran, who had collapsed against the overthrown and damaged table. She frowned as she kicked his body with the toe of her left boot, making him roll over on his back.

"You know, he's only going to be more trouble if you keep him alive," Varric said pointedly and stroked Bianca. "Perhaps we should just-"

"There will be no more killing in this establishment!" A shrill woman's voice interrupted the dwarf's musings, and it belonged to Madam Lusine. The woman's face was pale but calm and collected as she approached them both. "Now, I don't know what that was about, _and I don't want to know_, but this is a fine and respectable whorehouse, and I will not allow any kind of dangerous behaviour disrupting my clientèle." She looked at them both sternly, her hands pressed into her hips. "Do you understand me?"

"I think we do," Varric said slowly as he pulled Hawke back, beginning his retreat toward the entrance in a very similar fashion to the mercenaries who escaped only a moment ago. "I think what you mean is-"

"OUT!" Madam Lusine shouted, finally losing her calm demeanor. "Get out, both of you! And I hope you never come back!"

"She'll change her mind next week when we come back with some gold coins to pay for the damage, trust me," Varric said lowly to Hawke, advancing their retreat from the brothel hurriedly, the exasperated shouts of Madam Lusine still ringing in their ears. "She really doesn't hold a grudge that long, although the same might not be said about Meeran-"

"Oh I don't know, he might wake up tomorrow.. or in a couple of days.. and find that he's forgotten all about me," Hawke said with a grin and looked at Varric. Both burst into laughter at the same time.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note:** Again, this chapter is longer than the one before! I can't help it, it just felt right. :) I'm sorry about dragging out the first Fenris/Hawke encounter for so long - I guess I'm just intrigued by the events that brought them together and I wanted to expand on them and put my own twist on it. Don't worry, you can read about their first "proper" meeting in the next chapter!

**Disclaimer:** Fenris, Hawke and all other characters in this story are owned by Bioware. I'm just here to play with them.

**Wolf Unchained, Chapter 4  
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The mansion was silent and dark, but Fenris did not believe for a moment that it was abandoned. His keen training had taught him to never underestimate the cunning nature of an opponent, and he knew that Danarius was anything but foolish. He would not have left a trail to his location that was easy to follow, and the house would certainly not be obviously guarded by an army of men. _If he was in there, however..._ Fenris felt a horrifying chill run up his spine and a cold, clammy hand seemed to reach out, grasping for his heart. His eyes widened for a moment and he struggled to breathe. He regained his composure almost immediately and turned away, ashamed of his own weakness and fear. He could not risk being seen here, not now when he was so close to reaching his goal. He also knew that he dared not enter that house on his own; he could only imagine what horrors of magic awaited inside.

He had been scouting the mansion from the rooftop of one of the adjacent buildings; now he began climbing down the wall of the house with surprising athleticism, making absolutely sure that no one could hear or see him as he made his way down. When he finally reached an appropriate height, he released his grip of the wall and landed safely on the ground, glancing in either direction to make sure that he was still unobserved. His whole body was tense and his senses were on high alert, thoughts darting through his mind like caged animals about the possibilities he had, the strategies he could take in order to gain entrance into the mansion, yet all he could hear in his head were two words, repeated over and over again: "_So close, so close, so close..._"

He knew that he had to clear his head in order to form a plan, and to do that he had to get away from this location. He retrieved the greatsword he had stashed away before his climb on the rooftop and secured it firmly on his back before disappearing in one of the Hightown back alleys. This neighbourhood was well guarded and the patrols were numerous, yet he had managed to find his way to Danarius' mansion without much difficulty by blending with the shadows. His lyrium markings usually made it easy for others to spot him, despite the black clothing he chose to wear, as the magic could not be concealed by any material. Yet Fenris had learned to subdue the glow of the markings during his travels by applying intense self-control; learning how to stay hidden had served him well.

It had not been difficult to find the mansion the slaver had mentioned before Fenris had snapped his neck; in a neighbourhood such as this, everyone seemed to know who was who and where they resided. He only had to casually listen to a few groups of locals before he heard about the strange foreigners that had moved into one of the Hightown mansions a few days ago. They had apparently caused quite a stir since a group of malnourished-looking slaves had been with them and someone had reported that to the local guard. When the guards had arrived to inspect the problem the mansion had been empty, save for a few servants who didn't seem to know anything. Fenris, however, knew that they would not have left that quickly – especially since they had not caught him yet, and he was their main prize. He could only wonder whether Danarius himself had been one of those foreigners, and whether the hated magister was lurking in that mansion right now, quietly lying in wake for Fenris in the midst of all his clever traps and summoned demons, waiting for him to make the first move.

Fenris also heard rumours about a second group of slavers that had been spotted at an alienage in Lowtown, carrying what looked to be a very expensive and adorned chest. This intrigued him in particular, and various theories began running through his mind about the contents of this chest. Could it be treasure? That seemed too crude, even for Tevinter slavers. Perhaps it contained some of Danarius' most valuable tomes of magic? This seemed more likely, because Fenris knew that Danarius cherished these tomes almost as much as his life. The magister always carried them around on his travels and gave them his very best protection, because the spells in these tomes were invaluable to him. Fenris knew this well because he had been given the task of looking after these tomes of power on more than one occasion, and had experienced excruciating pain whenever Danarius had deemed that he had not done a good enough job of protecting them. If Fenris could possibly get his hands on some of these tomes, he would have something very valuable and precious to bargain with – something that might even bring the wizard out of hiding, and give the elven slave the opportunity he needed to finish this cat-and-mouse game once and for all.

As Fenris' footsteps began leading him in the direction of the Blooming Rose, a plan began forming in his head. He was indeed going to make the first move, but it would not be the move Danarius expected him to make, he thought triumphantly while walking through the dark and quiet street. The slaver had mentioned that he had been paid by someone else, another magister, right here outside this brothel. Fenris didn't know who that could possibly be – Danarius had many apprentices, all of them despicable social climbers who only cared about their own ascension into Tevinter's limelight – but perhaps it would be possible for him to find out more if he visited the brothel and casually asked around, or even just listened. It might also be worthwhile to see if he could find a group of mercenaries that could aid him in his attempt to storm the mansion. It was a potentially dangerous plan because one of Danarius' spies could still be inside, looking for him, but Fenris had made a solemn promise to stop running and he wasn't going to break it now. If they saw him, he would kill them, or die trying.

He glanced up at the plaque above the door, placed a hand on the handle and shuddered. A part of him could not believe that he was going to look for aid in a brothel, but he was not in a position to bargain. And besides, desperate times..

He took a deep breath, pulled the door open and stepped inside, but not before two large and obviously terrified men crashed right into him on their way out of the brothel, sending him flying backwards onto the cold stone ground. Fenris cursed loudly in Tevinter and tried to grasp one of the fleeing men to hold them accountable for the offense, but all he caught was a wisp of air. The men had advanced beyond his reach, disappearing quickly in the deepening shadows of the night, running as if the Archdemon himself was on their heels.

"So much for Kirkwall hospitality," he mumbled under his breath as he picked himself up and dusted off his armour. Yet the surprises of the Blooming Rose did not seem to end there - as he finally managed to enter the brothel, the most peculiar sight unfolded before his eyes.

Most of the room was in complete disarray. Several tables lay overturned, chairs were thrown everywhere and the finely polished wooden floor was covered in splinters and blood. Five armoured men were sprawled out on the floor, some of them dead, some grasping a leg or an arm and crying out in pain. A dwarf and a human female were standing in the middle of it all, looking down at the body of one of the mercenaries. The woman was holding a bloody and twisted arrow in her left hand; her clothing was torn and her arm was bleeding, but she did not seem to notice this. Her skin was pale yet her cheeks were full of colour, and her face was partially covered by wild locks of dark red hair. She seemed to be out of breath and her gaze was focused on the body of the man who lay beneath her, slumped against an overthrown table.

As Fenris watched her, she kicked the man and made him roll over on his back. The dwarf tilted his head and said something to the red-head, but Fenris was too far away to hear what was said. The dwarf was interrupted by a woman who carried herself with great importance, and by the way she started shouting and issuing demands, Fenris assumed that she was the owner of the brothel. The strange couple began quickly advancing toward the exit of the Blooming Rose, which Fenris was currently blocking, so he stepped aside as the dwarf and the human approached, observing them carefully as they walked past.

"She really doesn't hold a grudge that long, although the same might not be said about Meeran-", he heard the dwarf say hurriedly, but the woman seemed to be more amused by the whole ordeal than anything else, and she couldn't hide the grin on her face.

"Oh I don't know, he might wake up tomorrow.. or in a couple of days.. and find that he's forgotten all about me," she said jokingly as they were exiting the brothel, and their laughter was still ringing in his ears as he watched them walk down the Hightown street and finally disappear around a corner.

"Most curious," Fenris said thoughtfully to himself as he stepped back into the brothel and observed the swift changes that were now taking place around the dead and wounded bodies. The owner was giving out orders left and right with a determined look on her face that seemed to say that she was not going to allow a disturbance like this to ruin her evening. Several servant girls were already bringing buckets of water and soup to clean the floor, while others, dressed too garishly to be anything but whores, were daintily tiptoeing around the bodies of the wounded, gingerly lifting up swords and daggers and throwing them in a pile in the middle of the room. They were laughing and chatting among themselves in a manner that seemed almost unnatural considering the brutal events that had just taken place.

Fenris found the commotion rather helpful, because it meant that absolutely no one seemed to pay any attention to the rather strange looking yet unobtrusive elf in the corner. After looking around and failing to spot anyone who looked like they might be working for Danarius, he felt safe enough to approach the bar and order a drink. He soon found himself sitting next to a chatty dwarf, who seemed eager to discuss what had just happened with anyone who was willing to listen. "I'm telling you, it was Hawke!", the dwarf exclaimed loudly and slammed his fist on the table, looking at the man on his right. "She's been working for that elf Athenril and her band of smugglers for over a year now, and doing some fine work too if you ask me, the damn Coterie has got too many fingers in too many pies these days-"

"It couldn't have been Hawke, Anso, you've been drinking too much," the man shook his head in a motion of disbelief. "Everyone knows that Hawke is a man who is six feet tall, and he's been smuggling the most dangerous goods in and out of Kirkwall for years! He's the best smuggler in Lowtown, not some weedy little girl with red hair and a foul mouth!"

"You saw what she just did!" The dwarf called Anso insisted heatedly, pointing at the bodies that were now being dragged out of the brothel with the help of some elven servants and left in a heap for the guards to find in the morning. "Did she not look deadly to you? Did she not just defeat the leader of those Red Iron mercenaries by busting his brains in? It was Hawke, and Blight take your sorry arse for not believing me!"

The man simply continued to shake his head and drank his ale. "Rubbish, Anso, utter rubbish," he mumbled and rolled his eyes. "I almost wish I hadn't bought you that beer now; your information is worth less than an urchin's shoe."

"I'll show you how much it's worth, you filthy, stinkin'-"

"Hey, dwarf," Fenris said lowly, making Anso turn around in the heat of his outrage. The dwarf's eyes widened for a moment as he saw the lyrium markings that branded the elf's skin and the menacing sword that hung heavily on his back. His dark armour was covered in dried blood, which was not a particularly unusual sight in Kirkwall, but there was something about this elf that Anso found rather unsettling and intimidating. He could hardly believe that he hadn't noticed the approach of this stranger before - he had obviously been far too engrossed in his heated discussion with the man next to him to notice that someone was listening in on his every word.

Fenris motioned the bartender to his side with his right hand. "I'll buy you a beer if you can tell me everything you know about the woman and the dwarf who left a moment ago," he said quietly to Anso while looking around the room, his senses still on high alert. No one seemed to be paying any attention to them as the clean-up of the fight was still taking place. Good. "And there might be some more coin in it for you as well... if what you will tell me turns out to be true." He turned his head slightly to fix his gaze on the dwarf. "Does that sound like a deal to you?"

"Oh yes, certainly messere!" Anso licked his dry lips as the bartender refilled his jug, his apprehension about Fenris' appearance immediately forgotten at the prospect of having someone else listen to his story and fill his belly with drink. "Well, I don't mean anything bad by it messere, but you must be fairly new in this city if you haven't heard about Hawke, or even Varric Tethras, he and his brother are fairly known as well, even though their family has now been casteless for almost a century.."

Fenris tilted his head as he listened to the dwarf's tale, taking in the information quietly and asking only the occasional question, which Anso was happy to answer. The elf slowly learned many things about the curious red-headed woman and her dwarven companion, including that she and her merry band of accomplices were now considered a formidable force in the Kirkwall underground. As he listened to Anso's descriptions of their accomplishments thus far, many of them more than likely exaggerated, Fenris mulled the information over in his head. He had been impressed by the way a dwarf and a human female had managed to take down five well-equipped mercenaries in the middle of a brothel, and judging by what Anso was telling him, the woman had not been particularly sober either, which made the feat all the more remarkable. He was unsure whether or not Hawke and her friends would be able to deal with a whole group of slavers who would be hell-bent on capturing him, but he was willing to see what the outcome of such an encounter would be. It seemed that Hawke was rather desperate to earn money for an expedition she was planning, and if Fenris could convince Anso to lie on his behalf it would be possible to get her aid without even discussing it with her. Perhaps this was the help Fenris had been looking for all along?

"I have a proposition for you, dwarf, which you might find most profitable," Fenris finally said after Anso had finished telling his story and was drinking his third beer. "It will include some deception on your part. I trust that won't be a problem for someone like you?"

Anso grinned at the elf, having taken a sudden liking to him after he had been such a patient listener and gracious provider of booze. His spirits were high and he was curious to hear about the elf's deal – it would be a sad day indeed when Anso the dwarf would turn down the prospect of cheating someone out of their money. "If it's deception you're looking for, messere, I believe you've come to the right dwarf!"

Fenris' lips twisted into in a smirk. "That's what I figured," he said as he went over the final details of his plan in his head. "Now listen to me very carefully Anso, and do exactly as I say..."

_Meanwhile, in Lowtown..._

"Marian, look at you! Look at the state you're in!" The woman fussed over the still less-than-sober girl who had flopped down in a chair in the cramped and filthy space that served as the Hawke living room. "Your arm is bleeding! Oh Carver, please, grab me some bandages, they're in the second drawer to your right-"

"I can only imagine what trouble you managed to get into this time, Marian," Carver scowled as he grudgingly followed the woman's orders and went looking for the bandages. "Were you attacked by bandits on the street or something?"

"Don't worry about it mother, it looks worse than it is. No, actually, it was in the Blooming-, er, it was in a blummin' bar," Hawke bit her tongue and looked away, avoiding her brother's scrutinizing gaze. She wasn't going to admit to him that she and Varric had spent the entire evening in a brothel, although she had a sneaking suspicion that Carver had visited the place on his own several times for rather dubious reasons. She knew that he would never admit it, and talking about it would only cause another argument they didn't need. "I think they were trying to steal my money, and Varric ended up defending me. He was very brave, really."

Carver snorted. "I'm pretty sure you were completely capable of defending yourself," he sneered as he passed the bandages to their mother. "What with your _special skills _and all," he added bitterly in a low voice, but it was loud enough for Marian to hear it and for their mother to shoot a warning glance in her son's direction.

Marian furrowed her brow. "If you think that I'm stupid enough to use magic in public then you're thicker than a hurlock's arse," she said fiercely, conveniently forgetting her earlier outburst in front of Aveline and Varric. She stretched out her left arm impatiently while her mother wrapped the thin and flexible bandages around it. "But I can defend myself, and I did. And now I'm home, and I'm safe, and there's nothing to worry about."

"You should have taken me with you!" Carver suddenly exclaimed and approached his sister, his eyes glowing brightly with determination. He was tall for his age and the time they had spent in Kirkwall had seasoned him well in battle. Quite often Marian tended to forget that he was younger than her, especially when he was towering over her like this."I should have been there to protect you against these.. these cretins," he continued angrily. "And instead you leave me here at home with Gamlen-"

"I left you here because you never approve of what I do!" Marian shouted back, pulling her arm away from her mother's touch and standing up from her chair, her face inches away from Carver's. "You always think that smuggling is _beneath you_, and-"

"What the hell is going on around here?" A grumpy voice suddenly interrupted as an elderly man appeared from one of the adjacent bedrooms with an annoyed look on his face. "Don't you people ever sleep? Leandra, what's this about?"

"Oh Gamlen, I'm so sorry for waking you up," Hawke's mother cooed gently, looking from Hawke's uncle back to her children with exasperation. "Marian just got home, and she apparently ran into some trouble.."

The siblings looked away from each other, and suddenly Marian felt incredibly tired. She sighed and began moving toward the second bedroom, walking past her uncle without glancing at him. "It's not important Gamlen, go back to sleep," she said tiredly. "I will do the same, because I could really use the rest. And _no mother_, I'm not hungry," she added before shuffling into the bedroom and closing the door behind her. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

_Oh to have money, to be rich, to have a status in this city, to have as much coin as she would need to get out of this house and never to return.._

Undressing seemed like an unnecessary chore. As Marian crawled into the top bunk bed of the room, sleep took her almost immediately, and for that the young mage was incredibly grateful.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note:** So here it finally is, the chapter about the first encounter between Fenris and Hawke. Naturally you will find that you recognize some of the dialogue lines, but I've strived hard to make sure this event doesn't seem too repetitive, and I've chosen to tell most of it through Fenris' perspective. I'm really excited about the next chapter as well, and I hope you will continue to enjoy reading this. :)

**Disclaimer:** Fenris, Hawke and all other characters in this story are owned by Bioware. I'm just here to play with them.

**Wolf Unchained, Chapter 5  
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Lightning shot out of her fingertips as Hawke struck the last blow and watched the slaver fall down before her, his skin sizzling from the heat of her magic. She grasped her staff for balance as she pulled herself up, wincing slightly from the pain in her left arm, feeling the aftermath of her showdown with Meeran and his gang at the Blooming Rose. The dagger had not cut her deep but a poison had been applied to the blade, leaving a nasty infection in the wound which now refused to fully heal. Marian's healing magic had dampened the effects of the poison somewhat, but she had not been able to remove it completely. Still, she chose to not pay it much heed, especially when there was coin to be earned and slavers to be killed.

"Is everyone alright?", she shouted out as she looked around the alienage, checking on her fellow team members and making sure they weren't harmed during the battle.

"Better than alright, Hawke!" - that was the reply from Varric, who saluted Hawke with his crossbow and a broad grin on his face. Nothing seemed to phase Varric, Marian mused as she looked at him. He also seemed to be none the worse for wear despite their little adventure in the brothel. Carver was cleaning some blood off his blade behind the dwarf and merely grunted in response. He and Marian had barely spoken two words to each other since the mage's stormy appearance last night.

"I think someone broke one of my windows," an elven girl spoke sadly to Marian's left, glancing worriedly at the house behind her. She was shorter than Marian and very thin, and her large brown eyes were full of what could only be described as childish innocence. Marian often found herself to be puzzled over her newest companion who had joined her adventures after a trip Hawke had taken to see the Dalish elves in Sundermount about a week ago. Merrill looked like a sweet and innocent young girl, yet she had somehow become involved in blood magic, seemingly without having any idea about the consequences of her actions. Marian found her combination of innocence and ignorance utterly perplexing.

"Oh I sure hope that I didn't do that with one of my spells," Merrill continued mournfully and stepped on her tiptoes as she glanced into the room through the broken window. "I'll have to try and fix that straight away – now everyone can see what a mess it is inside!"

"Don't worry about it Daisy, I'll swing by later and help you fix it," Varric said calmly and gave the elven girl a consoling pat on the back. The sarcastic dwarf had taken a surprising liking to the girl and could often be found visiting her house in the alienage, taking her for a walk around Lowntown, or buying her a drink at the Hanged Man. He seemed to be genuinely concerned for her safety and went out of his way to make sure she felt included in their little team. Merrill herself appeared to be very unsure about what course of action to take with this unexpected attention, and Marian thought this showed a surprisingly soft side of Varric that she had previously not seen.

"Well that was a fucking waste of time," Carver spat out and broke Marian's reverie. He approached the party with quick and steady steps, looking around at the sea of dead bodies around them. It was late at night and the alienage was deserted, but Hawke shuddered to think what its inhabitants would think when they would find a heap of rotting corpses in their front yard tomorrow morning. Unfortunately, there was nothing she could do about it. She had been hired to reclaim the contents of a chest inside one of the alienage houses and had come here to do just that, but instead she had found-

"Nothing," Carver said, shrugging his shoulders in a weak attempt to control his temper. "Abso-fucking-lutely nothing. It was empty! Has that dwarf been tricking us all along, trying to get us killed? What the hell was this ambush all about?"

"I don't know," Marian replied and sighed. She didn't particularly like the idea of once again being cheated out of a job, either. "I guess we'll just have to go and tell Anso that it was empty and see what he's got to say," she said with a shrug and started walking toward the steps that would lead them back into Lowtown. She looked up with surprise to see a man coming down the steps, dressed in thick scale armour and looking extremely unhappy.

"I don't know who you are,_ friend,_ but you made a serious mistake coming here," the man said menacingly and drew himself to his full height before shouting out: "Lieutenant, I want everyone in the clearing – now!"

Hawke's body stiffened and her grasp around her staff grew tighter as she instinctively prepared herself for another battle. She wished Aveline was here, but this time her friend would not be able to help her. If Hawke did not kill every single one of these men she would be shipped to the Gallows first thing in the morning, and she was_ not_ going to allow that to happen. Her gaze was drawn to the sudden approach of someone else, and her eyes widened in surprise as the body of a man suddenly fell down the stairs, blood gushing from the gaps in his armour. "Captain..", he croaked before collapsing to the ground.

_Fenris, fast approaching_

The deception had worked easily and Anso had agreed to his plan without asking any questions, which Fenris found rather remarkable. Kirkwall did not seem that different from Minrathous in many ways, because everyone and everything here had a price. He only hoped that what he was paying the dwarf would ensure his silence, although he highly doubted it. The plan had been to send Hawke and her men to the house in the alienage where slavers had been spotted with the treasure chest; Fenris was hoping to find one of Danarius' tomes in there and use it as a bargaining chip against the magister.

The plan, however, seemed to have failed. He had watched from the rooftops as Hawke and her friends had entered the house, and had continued to observe in dismay as a large group of slavers had emerged from their hiding places at the sight of the intruders. _Someone must have tipped them off in advance_, he thought bitterly as they encircled the house Hawke had just stepped into. Had it been Anso? If so, then Fenris would excessively apply his honed torturing techniques on the dwarf before even considering ending his life – but he had no time to think about it now. This was the biggest group of slavers Fenris had encountered thus far, and this time they seemed to have brought some Tevinter magisters with them as well. He had no idea whether Hawke could handle a group of this number, and while he was not particularly worried about the loss of some mercenaries he had not yet met, he was concerned about the tome they might possibly be recovering. While he rushed to scramble down the building, the sounds and cries of battle reached his ears. He fell down to the ground and rushed straight into an approaching company of armoured men. Fenris recognized them instantly for what they were – a group of Imperial bounty hunters who were paid by Danarius to track him down.

"That's the elf he wants!" One of them shrieked and pointed at him. "GET HIM!"

Fenris cursed lowly under his breath as he drew his sword, his battle-rage engulfing him in an instant as he rushed toward the group without waiting for them to strike first. His anger at being ambushed blocked out everything else and his striking was merciless. The powerful swing of the blade severed the heads of two men before he twisted the sword sharply and stuck it through one of the hunter's sides, breaking through their armour. As one of them lunged toward him with a drawn blade, he parried the blow with such force that the sword broke in half, leaving his opponent defenceless. Fenris roared furiously and picked him up, throwing him against a nearby wall and breaking his body on impact with the solid surface. He turned to face the last man out of the group, who whimpered and began moving backwards, almost stumbling over his feet. "Please, don't kill me," he whispered feverishly, looking behind him at the entrance of the alienage.

The elf's sharp laughter sounded more like a bark. "Save your pleas for someone who cares," he sneered. The man suddenly turned around and decided to make a run for it, to which Fenris responded by grabbing a throwing knife out of his belt and hurling it straight into the man's receding back, the blade landing in a crack between his armour plates. He watched his body tumble down the steps and followed its descent, listening sharply for the sounds of combat from the courtyard. As he turned the corner, he spotted the back of the man who must have been leading the group that had unsuccessfully ambushed him.

"Your men are dead and your trap has failed," Fenris growled, his silhouette emerging from the shadows while he walked down the stairs with confidence. The man he presumed to be the leader of the group turned around, his mouth open in disbelief. "I suggest running back to your master while you can," Fenris continued with a sneer as he walked past the man, ignoring him as a threat. The alienage was littered with the bodies of his pursuers and as he quickly glanced at Hawke, he could see that she was none the worse for wear after the battle.

The bounty hunter rushed forward, seething with anger. "You're going nowhere, slave!", he shouted out, roughly grasping the elf's shoulder. Fenris felt his entire body tense in an instant, the rage he had unleashed only moments ago surging forward again with incredible power. He felt the light of the lyrium envelop him as he sharply twisted around and pushed his hand through the man's chest, ripping out his heart and crushing it between his fingers before he let it fall to the floor. The bounty hunter fell down to the ground, his eyes still wide with surprise, sporting a gaping hole in the middle of his chest where his heart had been only a moment ago.

"I am _not_ a slave," Fenris snarled with anger, staring down at the man with blazing eyes. For a moment he seemed to have completely forgotten about the group of hirelings that were watching him with looks of utter horror on their faces. All he could think about was the fact that his brilliant plan to get back at Danarius was falling apart right in front of his eyes. They had known that he would come for the chest and that he would try to take it, and they had been waiting for him. _Danarius had known all along._ Once again Fenris tightened his fist in frustration, unable to shake off the feeling that this magister who had cursed his life also seemed to know him better than he knew himself.

"Well, that was a neat party trick," the dwarf broke the silence with a subdued joke, his eyes flickering from Hawke to Fenris and back. As the elf turned to face them, he saw that Hawke was still staring at him in disbelief. Fenris composed himself internally, locking his frustration away to the back of his mind. These people thought that he was a monster, and Fenris didn't necessarily disagree, but he felt that he owed them a small amount of courtesy. It was possible that he might still need their help after all.

"I apologize," he said, his voice surprisingly low and calm considering what terrible act he had just performed. He moved through the courtyard, reluctantly admiring the handiwork of the group he had hired. Hawke and her friends had done a superb job at bringing the slavers down, and Fenris felt a small surge of hope at the prospect of having such powerful allies on his side. "When I asked Anso to provide a distraction for the hunters, I had no idea they would be so.. numerous."

"What? Wait," Carver took a step forward, eyeing the elf with suspicion. "_You're_ the one who hired Anso for this job? You're the one who hired.. _us_?"

"That is correct," the elf replied calmly, the blankness of his face revealing nothing. "I apologize for any inconvenience this might have caused you-"

"Inconvenience?" Carver interrupted him with a snort. "You call hiring a group of people who run around for you looking at empty chests and get ambushed in the process by several dozen hunters and apostates an inconvenience? How _clever_. What? Ouch!" He yelped suddenly as Hawke elbowed him in the side while nodding toward the elf, observing his falling face.

"Ah. So it was empty," Fenris said, trying to remove the look of disappointment on his face and failing miserably. Another part of the plan that had not gone as it should. Danarius had used Fenris' knowledge of his tomes and their location as bait to bring him out of hiding, and he had succeeded at that marvellously. Yet here he was, still alive – because of the people that were standing in front of him.

"What did you think was in it?" A small, childish voice piped up and Fenris turned his head to look at a thin elven girl with sharp facial features and a curious glimmer in her dark eyes. She was smiling at him.

"It doesn't matter anymore," Fenris replied abruptly and bent down to rummage through the belongings of the man whose heart he had ripped out a moment ago, looking for any clues that would confirm that Danarius was hiding in the Hightown mansion. He felt the looks of Hawke and her companions burning a hole in his back, so he continued grudgingly. "These men were Imperial bounty hunters, hired to capture a magister's lost property.. namely myself. The chest was used as bait by my former master to bring me out of hiding, and I guess he has succeeded at that."

Hawke then suddenly spoke up, her voice surprisingly quiet. "All this just to capture one slave?" She asked, raising an eyebrow and crossing her arms. "It wouldn't have anything to do with the markings on your skin, would it?"

Fenris swallowed a knot of apprehension in his throat. He should have foreseen this question, but there was a note in Hawke's voice that made him suspect she already knew the answer to her own query, and perhaps even a lot more than that. He turned his head to look at her, his green eyes blazing with mistrust.

"Yes, it does," he replied shortly and turned back to continue rifling through the dead man's pockets. For a moment he thought it was all he was going to say, but then he forced himself to continue. "I didn't receive these markings by choice," he said defensively as he wrapped his fingers around a brass key and pulled it out of a pocket. "But they have served me well. Without them, I wouldn't be alive."

He stood up suddenly without waiting for a response, gripping the key in his right hand. It had to belong to the mansion in Hightown, and he was going to need the help of these people to get there. He mentally prepared himself for what he was going to have to ask of them next, his insides twisting and turning at the humiliation.

"I know you have already done a lot for me," he said lowly, fixing his gaze on Hawke. "But I must ask for your help once more." He lifted his hand and opened his palm, revealing the key he had been holding. "I believe that my former master is here in this city at this very moment, and I'm in a desperate need to pay him.. _a visit_," Fenris said, a savage tone breaking out of his voice at his last words. "But I cannot do this without you," he added quietly, his shoulders slumping every so slightly at this admission of helplessness. _He hated being weak, oh Maker he hated it so much._ His breath was stuck in his throat as he looked at Hawke, waiting for her response, waiting to see what would be the most important outcome of his life. Despite all the physical and mental atrocities Danarius had inflicted on him during his time as a slave, asking for help was the most difficult thing Fenris had ever had to do.

The silence seemed to last forever. Hawke's companions shifted idly on their spots as they shot curious glances in the mage's direction, waiting to see what she would decide. Even Carver dared not step forward and make the decision for her. Although he wasn't fond of it, he had admitted to himself a long time ago that his sister was ten times the leader he could ever be. She had taken control of the funding operation for the Deep Roads expedition with her usual decisiveness, while Carver had just made lame suggestions about pawning some of Gamlen's old furniture. He looked at his sister now while she was thinking over the proposal, frowning at her bandaged arm. He wished he could keep her safe, but he knew that he could not keep her safe from herself.

"Why not run?" Hawke asked suddenly. "Why do you need to face him? You're free now, aren't you?"

Fenris' gaze swept across the alienage, lingering on the dead bodies of his pursuers. "This is not freedom," he said simply and looked back at Hawke, who was watching him so carefully that it was beginning to make him feel uncomfortable. "There comes a time when you stop running," he added quietly, thinking of the solemn promise he had made on the docks the day he had arrived in Kirkwall. "When you turn to face the tiger – no matter the consequences. I cannot – _will not_ – run from my past anymore," he finished, a deep and determined note in his voice.

What came next surprised nearly everyone. Hawke uncrossed her arms and gave Fenris a small smile that lit up her face and give the elf an unpleasant jolt in his stomach. "Very well then. If we're going to help you, could I at least know your name?", she asked softly, her bright eyes looking at him with strange intensity.

"I.. er, yes, of course," Fenris replied, trying not to show how much the question had thrown him off guard. He had expected a refusal, questions about his tactics, the location of Danarius and his mansion, anything but this surprising level of.. well, intimacy. He had never introduced himself to anyone before. "My name is Fenris," he said awkwardly, not knowing what else to say.

"Hawke," she said in return, and after getting a wounded look from Carver, adding hastily, "_Marian_ Hawke. Pleased to meet you, Fenris."

Fenris nodded at this, unable to reply without risking to tell her that he had already known her name since her tussle at the brothel. "I'll fill you in on the details on our way there," he said briskly and turned, walking out of the alienage with quick, long strides. He could only hope that they would follow.

"Some mention of profit would be nice," he heard Varric grumble somewhere behind him, to which Hawke elbowed him in the shoulder, making him cry out. "Hey, watch those elbows, woman! You're deadlier with them than you are with your-"

"Shh," Hawke silenced him through gritted teeth as they followed the strange elf up the steps and further into Lowtown. She wasn't going to give up her apostate identity that easily to a stranger with magically infused markings on his skin who could rip hearts out of men's bodies with his bare hands. Although he did seem to have a rather pleasant voice and beautiful green eyes.. and a not entirely unattractive lithe look about him, she thought and grinned quietly to herself as they left the alienage behind them.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note:** Thank you so much for your reviews and your continued support - it's so good to know that people are reading this, and that you enjoy my writing! :) This chapter is my personal favourite thus far, and I hope you will like it as well.

**Disclaimer:** Fenris, Hawke and all other characters in this story are owned by Bioware. I'm just here to play with them.

**Wolf Unchained, Chapter 6**

"Gone," Fenris said blankly, looking around the ruined and abandoned mansion. "I.. can't believe it," he said, his voice full of disappointment as his gaze swept across the room. They had killed about two dozen abominations simply to get this far, and it had all been for nothing because Danarius was no longer there. "I need to get out of here," he said abruptly to Hawke and her companions, turning to leave. "Help yourself to whatever treasures Danarius has left here, I'm sure it will be more than sufficient payment for your help." He left without saying another word, his body trembling in shock. He had been so sure that the magister would be here, so sure that he would finally get the opportunity to put an end to this farce once and for all, yet his former master had eluded him once again, leaving elf with the bitter taste of failure in his mouth. And to make matters worse, Fenris had resorted to begging for aid from strangers who had turned out to be just as viciously deceitful as the magisters he was running away from.

When Hawke had cast the first spell inside the mansion, Fenris instantly knew that it had been done out of pure instinct. The abominations had appeared out of nowhere, surrounding them with their large and hideous forms, uttering noises of pure horror. The elf had grasped his sword, readying himself for what seemed to be his last fight, when the abomination in front of him had suddenly turned to a rock of solid ice, staring at him with empty, glassy eyes. Fenris had turned around just in time to see the glow that began erupting from Hawke's hands, showering them in a rain of fire that crashed upon their enemies, scorching their deformed frames. The look on her face told him that she had been almost as surprised as he at the sudden burst of magic, but there was a look of growing appreciation for her own powers in her eyes, a look that Fenris knew so well and dreaded so much. The thin and childlike elven girl had begun casting spells as well without showing any sign of hesitation, and the slave suddenly realised that he was in a group with not just one, but two mages. He had cursed loudly and attempted to run away, but the abominations had continued coming, giving him no other option but to stand and fight. They swept through the mansion in a matter of minutes, only to find a layer of dust covering the expensive furniture wherever they went, the sound of silence haunting their steps.

He should have known that it would have been too easy this way. He should have known that he would not be able to claim his revenge so quickly. Yet a part of him had hoped – dared to hope, against all odds – that this time he would be able to claim his freedom, finally ending the reign of terror Danarius had held over him for so long. Instead, he found himself alone with his fears and doubts once again, and the undeniable feeling of being unworthy of a normal life smothered him. This had been a mistake.

"Fenris?" A voice suddenly interrupted his thoughts, bringing him back to reality. He had run out of the mansion and onto the street, pacing back and forth like a caged animal, which in many ways he was. Now, as he leaned against the cool stone wall of the building, he didn't know who hunted him more – the slavers, or his own treacherous mind. He raised his head and looked at Hawke, who was eyeing him with concern while the rest of her party was spilling out through the door behind her. "Is everything.. are you alright?"

"What do you want from me, _mage_?" He spat out the last word like an insult, his eyes narrowing with mistrust. He realised now that she had cleverly hidden her powers last night at the brothel and probably would have done the same tonight, if the abominations had not taken her by surprise. All mages were devious and would do anything to keep their secrets to themselves, and Fenris saw no reason why he should treat Hawke any differently. The elven girl's magic was an unpleasant surprise, but Fenris had not counted on her help, and did not feel cheated by it the way he felt cheated by Hawke's deception. If he had known what she truly was, what she was capable of... he would have never hired her services at all. "I saw the magic you cast inside the mansion and you can no longer hide from me," he said ruthlessly, an unmistakable note of hatred in his voice.

"I'm not trying to hide from _you_," Hawke's shoulders tensed as she defiantly pushed out her stubborn chin, ready to pick a fight with this arrogant stranger. "I'm trying to hide from the Templars who want to lock me away for the rest of my life, or fry my brains. And even though you clearly despise it, my magic saved your bacon back there. I would have thought you'd be more grateful for that."

Fenris blinked, struck by her stinging words which unfortunately had the unpleasant ring of truth. However badly magic had damaged and destroyed his life, he could not deny the fact that without Hawke's help he would have died inside Danarius' mansion and become just another ornament for that abandoned and desolate place.

"I'm sorry," he said and cleared his throat as he stood up. "I do not mean to sound ungrateful, which is far from the truth. Without you, I..," he paused and shrugged his shoulders as he looked away. "Well, I would not have made it this far. My master has eluded me once again, but that is through no fault of yours." He looked at Hawke's companions, who all had stuffed their pockets with various trinkets and treasures they had found inside the mansion. "I do not know if his belongings are enough of a repayment for your services," he continued, his voice cracking at the thought of what he was going to say next. "If they're not, then all I can do is offer you my services, such as they are, in lieu of coin." Fenris seemed to have difficulties saying his last. The very idea of working for a mage made his skin crawl, yet what choice did he have? Danarius had vanished once again, and Fenris was still indebted to these people for their assistance. He hated the thought of owing anyone anything, especially someone like Hawke, and he woved to himself to never ask her for another favour ever again.

Hawke raised her eyebrows at Fenris' proposal and a flash of amusement was seen in her eyes as she observed the inner turmoil the elf was going through. She had only a vague understanding of his obvious hatred for mages and she could clearly see that his offer of service was being made out of some twisted sense of honour that the elf himself perhaps did not understand. Her slender fingers moved idly across her staff as she considered what to do next.

"You would be willing to work for a mage?" Hawke enquired in a soft and airy voice which concealed her concern.

Fenris had apparently already given this question some thought. "My former master, who now hunts me, is a powerful Tevinter magister who made my life a living hell and paraded me around like a Qunari pet on a leash," he said bitterly. "I would be willing to work for you, but I would also reserve the right to leave if you turned out to be a monster, just like him."

"You would reserve the right to leave.. or to kill me?" Hawke wondered, her tone unchanging. The elf's eyes flashed darkly in response and she realised triumphantly that she had hit the nail on the head.

"I.. don't know," he hesitated and looked away. This woman seemed to have an eerie knack for reading his thoughts and it frightened him, because he didn't think she was doing it with magic. She simply seemed to understand him, and this was a prospect far more terrifying for the former slave, who had always kept his own council. "I am in your debt," he finally replied. "As long as that is the case, I will not harm you."

Marian smiled quietly to herself, wondering if the elf would be willing to change the terms of his promise to her if she suddenly turned into an abomination right there and then. She was fairly certain already that if push came to shove, Fenris would definitely push. Hawke wondered if he even believed his own words.

"What about your skills?" She queried, trying to mask the fact that she had already made up her mind. "What you did back there at the alienage was quite.. interesting, to say the least."

"The lyrium markings on my skin have given me these.. powers," Fenris said slowly, looking at his hands. Saying that these markings were a curse and that he was freak of nature seemed more appropriate, but Fenris bit his tongue. He wasn't going to admit that to a mage. "But I am also a skilled fighter and I know how to work a blade."

"You can say that again," Carver suddenly spoke up, a note of appreciation in his voice. He had observed Fenris as they had fought their way through the demons inside the mansion and despite his strange appearance and the strong dislike he seemed to harbour for Carver's sister, he couldn't help but be impressed by the weaponry skills the elf seemed to possess.

"Alright then," Marian suddenly exclaimed in a cheerful tone, turning to look at her companions. Varric was giving her cautious glances, looking at Fenris with apparent distrust, while Carver seemed rather non-committal. Merrill, however, seemed to be entirely undisturbed by Fenris' apparent hatred for mages, and was currently distracted by a shiny object in her hands, which turned out to be a butterfly-shaped clasp of pure gold. Marian ignored them all together and extended a hand to Fenris, giving him a warm smile. "Welcome aboard," she said with a grin. A part of her was afraid that he would simply turn around and walk away, and she breathed a sigh of relief when Fenris reluctantly accepted her hand after a moment of hesitation, giving it a light squeeze.

"Thank you," he replied politely after withdrawing his hand as fast as he could, hoping that he had not shown the unease her touch had caused him. It had given him a strange sensation, unlike the usual discomfort he felt when he was being touched by others, and he couldn't quite place it. He wondered briefly if it had been pleasure, but the thought seemed so bizarre to him that he discarded it immediately. "I think I will occupy this mansion myself, at least for now," he said as he glanced up at the building, a dark note of sarcasm creeping into his voice. "If Danarius wishes to come back, he will be free to claim it.. at any time."

Hawke saw the look of anticipation and eagerness on his face and she could only imagine what Fenris' former master would experience once the slave finally had him in his grasp. She had no doubt that the elf would eventually gets his revenge, especially since it seemed to be driving force of his existence. She tilted her head and smiled, pushing back a lock of red hair from her eyes. "One of us can usually be found at the Hanged Man, when we're not out on a job," she said conversationally and gave Fenris a conspiratorial wink. "We'll call on you soon, so be sure to be ready for it."

"Of course," Fenris nodded, unsettled by the odd emotions he was experiencing whenever Hawke seemed to smile at him. It made him feel incredibly tense and he wondered if she was using some sort of magic in order to elicit these strange reactions; he had experienced Danarius' magic on his own skin many times and knew what it was like to be held against his will. He would have to be very careful around Hawke, very careful indeed.

"Be safe, Fenris," Marian said with a smile before turning to leave, her motley crew of followers falling in step behind her without so much as a glance in his direction. Fenris watched them until they disappeared out of his view by turning a corner. He glanced upward and frowned; morning was already fast approaching and the surrounding buildings had acquired a tint of surrealism that could only be seen in the lingering shadows of dawn. It had been a long night, perhaps the longest night of his life, but now it was coming to an end. What would come next would be anyone's guess.

He scratched the back of his head in an absent-minded fashion and walked back into Danarius' abandoned mansion, which Fenris would now call his home.

_A few hours later, in Danarius' mansion.._

Fenris spent the entire day inspecting his new property. After repairing some of the damage he and Hawke had caused during their rampage through the mansion and making sure that the front door was standing firm in its hinges, the elf slowly began exploring the rooms of the mansion, one by one. Each one seemed to greet him as an old friend in different disguise, as all the furniture and decorations seemed to have been shipped from Tevinter. His eyes drifted across the familiar sights of old statues and demonic ornaments that furnished the walls, taking in the ostentatious cabinets, tables and chairs which seemed to fill every room. It all seemed like a strange shrine, built to honour the old gods of Tevinter in this distant and foreign land.

At this idea Fenris experienced a strange mixture of feelings – he was filled with hatred for the magisters and everything they stood for, everything they represented. Yet these furnishings also filled him with a strange sense of homecoming. He could almost see the lingering ghosts of the elven slaves who had occupied these spaces, and for a moment he lost himself in the days of his past, standing frozen in a dark and damp room in the servants quarters before grudgingly moving on. His bare feet sank deep into the thick patterned carpets as he wandered through the house like a ghost, relishing the silence that followed him wherever he went. He hadn't slept more than a few stolen hours here and there since his arrival in Kirkwall and by all rights he should have been exhausted, but the sensation of being so close to his past in this house overwhelmed his senses and kept him going.

After finishing his round of inspection, Fenris was certain that no one had lived in this house for years. The rumours he had heard about Tevinter slavers inhabiting this property had more than likely been another ruse to bring him out of hiding, and the mansion had been filled with traps and demons that had simply awaited his arrival, and his subsequent death. He was glad that he had not been foolish enough to attempt to enter this place on his own. He wondered briefly if Danarius had ever been here at all, and decided that he had. The house was undeniably tainted with foul blood magic, and although almost every Tevinter magister was well versed in its arts, Fenris knew that only Danarius would be capable of devising such a cunning plan to make the elf come forward and seek him out. But now the magister was gone, and Fenris was living in his mansion. The sense of victory was hollow, but it was there nonetheless.

He decided to take the main bedroom for himself, hoping that it was the same room Danarius had slept in. He would enjoy destroying and mercilessly using all of the magister's old property for himself during the days to come. The fireplace had not been used for ages, but Fenris decided to put it to use as he systematically tore apart a beautifully carved bedside table and gathered a few select pieces of wood to use for the fire. He looked around to see what he could use for kindling and his gaze lingered on a few books that someone had left on a nearby table. He considered them for a moment and then chose a few dry plants instead that had died a long time ago due to lack of water. The fire crackled along merrily fairly soon, and Fenris watched in amusement as the flames licked away at the bedside table with great ardor. It felt immensely satisfying and the hungry dance of the flames hypnotized him for some time.

After a while, how long he was not entirely sure, Fenris stood up and approached the bed. He had never slept in a bed before as far as he could remember, and the prospect of finally being able to claim such a privilege made his body tingle. He slid his hands across the soft feathery mattress, coming away with a layer of dust on his fingertips. He frowned and looked around, spotting the thick blue drapes that covered the arched windows. He reached out and pulled sharply, bringing the drapes and the rail they hung from crashing down to the floor with a loud thud. He gripped the material and pulled again, detaching it roughly from the rail before he swept the fabric across the dusty mattress. Satisfied with his handiwork, he only had enough presence of mind to remove the armour that covered his aching body before he fell heavily into the bed. He watched the sun move across the closed shutters of the windows, peeking through the cracks. He was barely conscious before sleep crashed down on him like a wave, pulling him away.

He opened his eyes briefly a few hours later and found himself curled up next to the fireplace, wrapped up in drapes. He managed to swear quietly under his breath before sleep took him again.


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note:** Thank you to all my readers for the favourites, reviews and subscriptions! I'd also like to give a special shout-out to AnimeRANDOMNESS (your reviews and support keep me going! :) and quickthorn, for a wonderful constructive review that really helped put things into perspective. :)

**Disclaimer:** Fenris, Hawke and all other characters in this story are owned by Bioware. I'm just here to play with them.

**Wolf Unchained, Chapter 7**

When Fenris finally stirred from his slumber, the fire had already reduced itself down to a few burning embers that flickered like red eyes in the darkness. Night had fallen upon the City of Chains once again. The elf slowly roused himself from the spot next to the fireplace where he had crawled to during his sleep, apparently abandoning the comforts of the bed for something the former slave was more used to. Thankfully the thick and luxurious carpet had dampened what otherwise would have been a very uncomfortable slumber. The drapes he had wrapped around his naked body fell to the floor as he walked over to one of the windows and pulled the shutters open, letting in a fresh cool breeze of sea air. He breathed in deeply and closed his eyes, allowing the night air to gently caress his skin and ruffle the silvery locks of his hair. It felt invigorating to stand there, simply enjoying the pleasures of being free and undisturbed, and a small smile spread across his lips as he felt strength flowing back into his limbs.

He opened his eyes and looked across the city that was spread out before him. The moon was shortly eclipsed by a group of clouds and for a moment the streets were hidden from his view. Then suddenly the bright celestial body revealed itself once more and its gentle moonlight lit up the rooftops and buildings of Kirkwall. An involuntary gasp escaped his lips as he admired the view. Far in the distance he could see the distinct silhouette of the Chantry, its similarity to the architecture of Minrathous currently obscured by the darkness. Somewhere far away he could almost hear the sea, its midnight waves crashing against the docks, the constant cries of seagulls piercing the night. Far more present were the sounds of muffled female laughter somewhere in a side-street nearby, and Fenris thought he could make out the clink of swords in a dark alley where some poor soul was either being killed or robbed, or both. This was the pulse of the city he had felt when he first arrived here, and at night it seemed to grow with a great hunger, escalating to thundering strength unlike anything he had ever heard before.

Standing there in the moonlight, naked as the day he was born, Fenris finally understood the difference between Kirkwall and the Tevinter society he had come to know so well. Minrathous had been full of slaves and misery where magisters had ruled with an iron first; Kirkwall was a city where anything was possible as long as you were willing to do what was necessary to achieve it. No matter how similar they might seem at first, there was freedom and opportunity here that did not exist back in Tevinter, at least not for former slaves. He was suddenly struck by the idea of creating a new life here, a new beginning that would allow him to put his past behind and start over, somehow. The thought seemed so fragile, like a beautiful glass figurine, and Fenris marveled at it like a child, unsure whether he was allowed to even touch it. But then a shadow fell across his face and the thought vanished from his mind as quickly as it had appeared. While Danarius was alive, Fenris would never truly be free.

He reluctantly pulled himself away from the window and went to inspect his armour, which lay scattered in pieces across the floor. He frowned as he picked up his chestpiece, running his dexterous fingers across the scrapes and blood that covered it. He would have to take much better care of his armour now that he was working for Hawke; he had a feeling that whatever he might think of the mage and her methods, the work they would be doing together would never lack excitement. His thoughts turned to the strange meeting he had experienced with the mage the previous night. His apprehension grew as he remembered the strange hold the woman appeared to have over him with her smiles and her words. His fingers increased their grip on his armour subconsciously as Fenris thought about Hawke and about the bizarre situation he now found himself in.

It seemed that fate, if former elven slaves like himself even had one, was not without a sense of irony. He had escaped his life as a slave in a land ruled by magic only to arrive in a different city, in a foreign land, and find himself working for another mage. Fenris would have found the idea hilarious, if not for the fact that this was the reality he now found himself in. He comforted himself by reminding himself that he was no longer a slave, and that he would be paid for his services. He was also not presumptuous enough to assume that all magic was inherently evil, and he could not fault Hawke for something she had not yet done – at least, as far as he knew. Fenris had an incredible presence of mind and he was aware of the fact that his own experiences had irrevocably tainted his view of magic for life. Yet he also could not deny what every instinct he possessed insisted on telling him over and over again –_ magic was dangerous, and anyone who wielded that kind of power was dangerous by default_. No matter what Hawke's intentions were, her powers made her dangerous to herself and to the people around her, and Fenris simply saw no way around that.

It did not take him long to find the items he needed to start repairing his armour. Although the mansion hadn't been inhabited for years it still held all the necessities of a lord's lifestyle, and the cupboards were full of household items like soap, rags and even a mixture that smelled of polish. As Fenris went about the monotonous yet strangely comforting chore of cleaning and repairing his armour, he decided that he was going to be courteous to Hawke and the people she worked with, and he would tolerate her use of magic in their missions without voicing unnecessary objections. He was also going to watch her as carefully as he possibly could and kill her at the slightest indication that she was becoming an abomination. Damn the consequences. He was not going to allow other lives to be ruined by magic, even if that meant taking the life of someone who had saved his. He was going to wait, watch, and bide his time. And when Danarius decided to come for him again, he would be ready.

_Two days later, at the Hanged Man.._

"Hawke, you know I respect you," Varric said gravely, his voice full of concern. "And I know you mean well, but-"

"Save me the sermon Varric," Hawke said with a wave of her hand, staring stubbornly at her cards. "I know what you're going to say, because I've already heard exactly the same thing from Carver, my mother and even Gamlen, who usually doesn't give an urchin's tail who I deal with. And honestly, I was rather hoping that I wouldn't have to hear it from you too," she added, her brows furrowed in a look of concentration and annoyance as she dropped two of her cards and swapped them for another pair that she drew from the table. "Andraste's arse, at this rate I'll be hearing about it from everyone except Isabela, and I've only just met her!"

"But it already feels like a lifetime, right?" A sensual, low voice drawled behind her and Hawke turned to look at the newest addition to their little gang, a tanned and beautiful woman who was dressed in pirate leathers. She had a body that swayed charmingly every time she walked and a cleavage that made most of the Hanged Man patrons forget what they were drinking and stare after her like a flock of lost and hungry puppies. Isabela was fully aware of the effect her appearance had on members of both sexes, and the pirate seemed to relish in the attention she received.

"I swear I don't know how you survived in this place before you met me," she continued with a cheeky grin on her lips as she took a seat next to Hawke. "One more day of drinking the piss Corff calls his regular brew would have had you keeling over. I, however, know _exactly_ where he keeps the good stuff and what to do to make him share it," she said in a conspiratorial whisper and batted an eyelid at the mage. She then turned to Varric. "And I heard what you two were going on about," she said. "You'd do well to leave Hawke alone about it. She's allowed to make up her own mind about these things, you know."

"Rivaini, doesn't it bother you in the least that Hawke has hired some broody elf who rips people's hearts out with his hands?" Varric wondered casually while looking down at his cards.

"Not in the slightest," Isabela replied impassively. "I actually think he sounds quite.. interesting," she smirked as she glanced at Hawke, who tried avoiding the pirate's knowing look. "Hey Varric, deal me into the next game, would you? I think I want in on some of this action, else you'll take Hawke's money all for yourself."

"Don't be so sure about that, 'Bela," Hawke said with a grin as she threw some coin on the table. "Varric's been playing badly all night. I think Fenris has.. unsettled him. Hence, I call. Come on Varric, show me what you've got – I bet it's nothing more than a pair of nines."

"Unsettled my arse," the dwarf snorted, chewing idly on some tobacco as he glanced at his cards. "Raise you a sovereign, Hawke. You'll have to pay more than that to see the good stuff. But honestly, I just don't get it. The guy obviously hates you – and not just you, he seems to hate _all mages_! Is that really someone you want to be following you around?"

Hawke continued intently staring at her cards. "Varric..," she growled quietly, giving the dwarf a note of warning.

"I know, I know, you've heard it all before," the dwarf said in a singsong voice and rolled his eyes as he leaned back in his chair and spit out the tobacco, which landed deftly on some patron's shoulder. The man seemed to take no notice, his head resting on the table as he continued to snore. "Just don't come crying to me when the Templars greet you on your doorstep, dearest."

"I don't think he'd ever sick the Templars on me," Marian replied, adding very quietly, "I think he would just do it himself."

Isabela raised an eyebrow. "Well that's only _mildly_ grim, Hawke," she said with a bored sigh and looked around the bar. "I swear, if this conversation doesn't go to a happier place soon I'll be seeking my thrills elsewhere."

"No need, Rivaini," Varric said as he glanced up and raised his hand in greeting at a man who had just stepped through the door. "The company has been lovely and the drinks have been better, but I need to go see a man about an ogre. It's your lucky night Hawke. I fold," he said as he threw his cards on the table and got up from his chair to leave. "Enjoy it while it lasts – I promise you it won't be long."

"Talk is cheap," Hawke replied with a satisfied smile while she scooped the bronze coins from the table and put them in her pocket. Her eyes flashed with amusement as she stretched out her long legs on the chair Varric had just occupied. She gathered together the cards and began shuffling them efficiently while casting a glance at Isabela. "Another round?", she asked.

"Sure, why the hell not," the pirate captain drawled while absent-mindedly playing with a lock of her long dark hair. "Hey Hawke, what's that all about?" Isabela asked while nodding toward Varric and the man he was now talking to. He looked like someone who could use some new clothes and a few decent meals, among other things. They walked up the stairs to the second floor of the bar while talking quietly to each other about something that seemed rather important.

"Varric's been trying to find someone who'd know about some entrances to the Deep Roads, for the expedition," Hawke shrugged while giving the cards a final shuffle. "A job might come out of it, or might not. We'll have to wait and see."

"Wait and see about what?" A voice enquired lowly, making both women turn their heads in its direction. Fenris had approached them silently without giving himself away, and he was now giving Hawke and Isabela an apprehensive look, as if unsure of what to do next.

"Oh, I _see_," Isabela snickered, giving Fenris an obnoxiously long and daring look, her gaze wandering deftly over the elf's body. She glanced back at Hawke, a wide grin spreading across her lips. The pirate woman then rose smoothly from her chair and arched her body with catlike grace before looking back at the elf and giving him one of her most charming smiles. "I'm afraid we haven't been introduced yet," she said softly as she placed a hand on his shoulder. "But I have already heard _so much_ about you. My name is Isabela," she purred gently into his ear.

Fenris winced from the unfamiliar closeness of the woman and turned his head away from her, stepping back slightly to make her hand drop from his shoulder. "Fenris," he said shortly, his eyes darting from side to side. "Nice to meet you."

"A pleasure, I'm sure," Isabela winked at him, undisturbed by Fenris' rejection to her advances. "How about a drink, Fenris? Consider it a welcome gift. This place always looks better after you've had a pint or two – trust me, I know what I'm talking about," she laughed merrily and wandered off to the bar without giving the elf a chance to respond, leaving him and the mage alone.

"Nice to see that you finally found us, Fenris," Hawke spoke up after a moment and gave Fenris a small smile. She didn't get up from her seat, motioning him to join her at the table instead. "We were going to go looking for you later. How are you settling into your new living quarters by the way?"

Fenris grabbed the back of a nearby chair and pulled it toward Hawke's table before taking a seat next to her. "Not too bad, actually," he said in his most casual voice, trying not to show how incredibly out of place he felt in this environment. It was so unusual for him to have conversations with people he hardly knew, yet strangely enough talking to Hawke seemed almost natural, which he found incredibly odd. He barely knew the woman, after all. "I haven't found any rats so far," he added, trying to think of something to say.

"Perhaps they're simply frightened of you," Hawke suggested helpfully while continuing to shuffle her cards. "Maybe they'll come out of hiding once they get used to you being around."

"I certainly hope not," Fenris chuckled softly as he watched how the mage dexterously mixed the cards. He was grateful for the lack of eye-contact he was currently having with her, yet he still found himself to be fascinated by her movements. She seemed to be a woman of many skills, he thought to himself. He also noticed that her left arm was still bandaged in the same fashion it had been when they had met a few days ago, and he keenly observed that a rash was slowly beginning to spread beyond the covered area on her skin. "If you don't get that taken care of it will only get worse," he said, nodding at her arm.

Hawke laughed. "That's exactly what I used to say to Carver about his face," she grinned and looked at the elf. When he didn't return her smile she groaned and shrugged her shoulders in a nonchalant fashion, ignoring her bandaged arm completely. "I know I should, but I just don't have the money to spend on a healer right now," she said as she dealt the cards on the table to her imaginary game partners. "I tried healing it myself, but not much luck there. Do you play Diamondback by any chance?"

"Er.. no, I'm sorry," he replied, apparently not entirely satisfied with her evasive answer.

"That's a shame," Hawke said and looked up, fixing her piercing bluegray eyes on the elf. "Would you like to learn? We've got the time."

"Perhaps.. some other time," he said reluctantly and cleared his throat. He had to avert his gaze from her face to conceal the sudden feeling of warmth that coursed through his system. Damn this woman and her beautiful eyes. He was not going to allow her to cast some strange spell on him, and he would not give her the satisfaction of letting her know how she made him feel. "What were you discussing with.. Isabela, was it?"

"Oh, that," Marian nodded while considering the cards in her hands with a frown. "Yes, there might be another job coming up, and Varric is getting all the details now from one of his "mysterious underground contacts"," she said with a mischievous grin. "We're trying to find some good maps that we could use for the Deep Roads expedition we're planning," she added, apparently not satisfied with her hand because she peeked under some other cards and picked those instead. "I don't suppose you've ever been to the Deep Roads before?"

"I'm afraid I've never had the pleasure, no," Fenris shook his head, his apprehension growing as he looked around him. He didn't feel safe here, especially with this woman sitting next to him, talking to him as if he was an old friend of hers. The need to escape this place and leave it behind him became increasingly pressing. "I spent most of my life in Tevinter."

"Oh, I've heard a lot about Tevinter," Hawke said in a conversational tone. "What's it like there?"

Fenris paused only for a moment, but it was long enough for Marian to understand that she had said the wrong thing. "It's wonderful," the elf said flatly. "I'm sure you would love it there," he stood up, a note of finality in his voice. "Listen, I came here to see if you needed my help, but seeing as you don't...," he shrugged, turning to leave.

"Fenris," Hawke called out pleadingly, stopping him in his tracks. He had only known her for a short time, but the beseeching tone of her voice seemed very unlike her usually casual demeanour. He moved his head slightly to look at the woman behind him.

The cards lay abandoned on the table as the mage stared down at her hands. She seemed to be gathering her resolve for whatever she was going to say. "I know you probably won't believe me when I say this," she finally said, her voice trembling strangely. "But I am not a blood mage, and I do not consort with demons," she continued and glanced around, making sure that only Fenris could hear her. She took a deep breath and looked up at the elf. "And for what it's worth, I'm sorry about what your master did to you."

His shoulders stiffened and he looked away as if he had just been slapped. "Don't be," he said coldly. "I don't need your pity."

"Andraste's dirty knickers, I swear I'm going to have to start bribing Corff to get him pour me the good stuff," Isabela said with annoyance as she walked up behind them and handed Fenris a cold glass of drink. She propped another two jugs on the table, full to the brim with golden ale. "Cheers," she said as she raised her glass and clinked it against the one Fenris was holding. She took an enthusiastic swallow of her drink before she sensed the tension around the table. "Hey, did the Archdemon drop by for a visit while I wasn't looking?", she asked with her eyebrows raised while looking around. Marian scowled and looked away.


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note:** Okay, if you're an Anders fan, I suppose you won't really like this chapter. There's no unnecessary Anders bashing here, but this is a Fenris-centered fic and you have to keep that in mind. :) This chapter is also much longer than the other ones, but there was no way I could cut it in pieces. I hope you enjoy it anyway! Thank you again for all the favourites and alerts, I'm really chuffed about the fact that you guys like this story.

**Disclaimer:** Fenris, Hawke and all other characters in this story are owned by Bioware. I'm just here to play with them.

**Wolf Unchained, Chapter 8  
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Fenris glanced at the door, wondering if he could make a run for it. The awkward moment between him and Hawke had made his urge to escape completely overpowering, and he saw no reason to stay. He took a small sip of his ale and began making his excuses to leave when Varric suddenly appeared out of nowhere, an excited smile on the dwarf's face. It faded only slightly when he saw that the elf was present.

"Hello there, Elf!," Varric said with forced cheerfulness as he approached Hawke's table. "Nice of you to join our little party. Has Isabela jumped your bones yet?"

"Oh Varric, you obviously don't know me well enough yet," the pirate retorted with exaggerated smoothness. Fenris would have found her manner rather admirable if the dwarf had not just made a joke about him and given him what felt like a ridiculous nickname.

"Contrary to popular belief I _do_ actually have standards," Isabela continued with a smirk and then shot Fenris another appraising look. "Although that would _definitely_ not be a problem in this case," she said and licked her lips, looking at him as if she was a hungry cat and he was a delicious bowl of cream.

Fenris took another gulp of his drink to mask his confusion and glanced at the door again, wondering if he could still try to escape and then dismissing the thought, at least for now. Doubtless Varric would have something important to say that would require his attention. He drank the ale with a great thirst, realising that it did indeed taste better than the swill Corff had served him the first time he'd come to the Hanged Man. It had only been a week ago, but to Fenris it already seemed like it had been another lifetime.

"Everything alright, Hawke?" Varric asked as he looked at the woman who sat at the table. Her drink was still untouched and she was staring off into the distance as if her thoughts were somewhere else entirely. She perked up only slightly when the dwarf spoke to her.

"Never better," the mage replied as she turned her head to look at him. The dwarf gave her a questioning look as if he remained unconvinced. "Any news about those maps?" She asked as she finally picked up her ale and took a sip, tactfully diverting his attention.

"Actually, my dear lady, yes!" Varric grinned as he turned to face everyone else. "Ladies and gentlemen, we've finally got ourselves a lead," the dwarf said, cackling as he rubbed his hands together enthusiastically. "My contacts have heard a rumour about a Grey Warden in town," he informed. "Supposedly he likes hanging out at the slums in Darktown, helping the sick and the poor and whatnot. The Wardens visit the Deep Roads all the time to fight darkspawn, and if anyone would know about the best entrances to that Blighted place, it would have to be them."

"Grey Wardens.. Ugh. How very _noble_," Isabela said, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she raised her glass for a final time and finished off her drink. "That's what they're all like, you know," she said knowingly after wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "I met a Grey Warden once, in Denerim, and all the rumours are completely true. All they do is run around Ferelden, helping people in need wherever they go without any thought for profit or gain. I don't know about you guys, but it almost makes me sick," she said with a sideways grin as she looked at the others.

"Sounds like they need to employ more people with good business sense," Varric agreed soundly, continuing to look at Marian. "So what do you think, Hawke?"

Marian's eyes flashed with excitement as she stood up. "I think it's time for us to pay this Grey Warden a visit and get us some Deep Roads maps," the mage said with a smirk that almost seemed to bring her back to her usual cheerful self. She took a last swig of her drink, which served to steady her nerves. "Come on people, time's a wastin'," she declared before heading toward the exit. Varric and Isabela followed her immediately, but Fenris remained standing on the spot, unsure whether he wanted to go with them or not.

Hawke cleared up his dilemma straight away. "Fenris, you coming?", she shouted out across the bar for everyone to hear. He made a face and moved to follow her, wondering if their first mission was going to be as eventful as he expected it to be.

_In the bowels of Darktown..._

"Why does this place always smell of piss?" Hawke complained loudly as they wandered through the grimy streets of Darktown. They were littered with small and dirty hovels on either side and the stench that came from inside them was almost unbearable. Young and starving faces looked up at the mage pleadingly wherever she turned. She was forced to look away and ignore them in order to continue her quest for the elusive Grey Warden. She didn't want to think about how close she and her family had come to joining these tortured souls. Despite her best efforts, depressing thoughts continued circling in her mind, her pride still raw from the humiliation she had experienced at the Hanged Man. She could hardly believe that she had been foolish enough to attempt speaking to Fenris, let alone try and be honest with him. He clearly wasn't interested in broadening his perspectives and was content with thinking that all mages were the same – but why did that surprise her? Hawke's pathetic attempts at honesty had been utterly fruitless, and she didn't even understand why she had felt the need to try and justify herself to this stranger. She was a good mage, and she knew it. Despite her occasional outburst of magic, she had very good control of her powers, and she only used them on people who.. well, deserved it. But a nagging, teasing voice spoke up in her mind just then, asking her – _do you truly think that anybody deserves it?_

Marian sighed and ran her fingers through her hair as they walked on, searching for a sign of the man they were looking for. She could sense Fenris' presence as he walked behind her without uttering a word, and that somehow seemed to annoy her even more. Hawke didn't quite understand why she had allowed the elf to join her team in the first place, and she had avoided giving anyone a clear answer because she didn't know what to tell them. How could you explain the desire to understand someone, when they did no want to be understood? How could you justify your urge to change them, when they did not wish to change? When Hawke had met Fenris, she had seen him as a mystery, a puzzle to be solved and pieced back together; now she found herself lost in a sea of frustration as she banged her head against an imaginary wall.

"This is what I imagine Orzammar to be like," Varric said as he carefully stepped over someone's sleeping body and wrinkled his nose. "But, you know, with more arrogance."

"I don't know what you're complaining about," Isabela looked around with a carefree smile on her face. "After spending so much time at the Hanged Man, the smell of Darktown is.. ohh.. _intoxicating_," she declared after deeply inhaling the air with a look of great satisfaction on her face. Varric rolled his eyes and kept walking, while Isabela grinned and glanced at the elf who walked next to her in silence. "What do you think, Fenris?"

"Huh?" The elf looked up at the sound of his own name, lost in thought. He had barely said two words to anyone since they had left the Hanged Man, unhinged by Hawke's words and angered by the pity she had shown him. He could hardly think of anything more insulting than being pitied by a mage, and the look she had given him still filled him with dread. _I am not a blood mage_, she had said in that weak, pitiful voice of hers. Why should he believe her? Why should he even care? Even if she wasn't a blood mage yet, the calls of power-hungry demons would always ring in her ears and the terrifying magic would always be there for the taking. How long would she last before she would resist its call? The pity in her eyes had hurt him more than he would admit, although he didn't understand why he cared. Shaming him had probably been a part of an elaborate scheme of hers to keep him under her control, but he would not let her succeed with it. He would not show her his weakness. He would not allow her to throw him off his guard.

"What do I think about what?" He asked Isabela, forcing himself to look at the pirate woman. The way she seemed to eat him up with her gaze made him feel exceedingly uncomfortable, and brought back memories of his past that he would prefer to be buried for ever.

"Off in your own little world I see," the pirate woman smirked as she observed him with her warm brown eyes.

"Can't blame the elf for that, especially if it smells better than this dump," Varric commented soundly as they made their way up a case of steps, approaching a large building with massive wooden doors. Several lanters hung above the heavy doorframe, lighting up the perpetual darkness of the Kirkwall Undercity with a soft glow. "I think this might be it," the dwarf said thoughtfully as he looked at the doors. "Go on Hawke, do your thing."

Hawke raised an eyebrow as she looked at Varric. "Do my _thing_?", she said slowly. He waved off her unspoken complaint and motioned her to the door, which the mage swung open. Fenris rolled back his shoulders and slightly bent his knees in anticipation for whatever was going to be behind the door. He hoped silently that there would be a battle, as he already felt his own blood boiling under his skin.

They entered a large room with a heigh ceiling, filled with supply crates on either side along with various junk that served some purpose Fenris did not comprehend. A small group of people were gathered around a table at the far side of the room, on which a boy lay stretched out, unconscious. A tall man with light hair had his hands stretched out over his small frame, his eyes closed in concentration. He was wearing grey and yellow robes with feather pauldrons, the material stretching to well below his knees. A small moan escaped his lips as a wave of healing light started flowing from his fingertips down to the boy's body, encasing him in a beautiful glow. As the light continued to flow from the man's hands, he seemed to grow increasingly weak, his posture faltering. His skin was covered in small beads of sweat and his chest rose and fell rapidly as he struggled to keep his hold over the boy. Just as the healer seemed ready to collapse with exhaustion, the boy suddenly opened her eyes and took a strained breath, at which the people surrounding him and the healer cried out in joy. Fenris' eyes narrowed as he watched the spectacle, feeling a familiar anger growing inside him. He growled quietly under his breath. Was there ever going to be an end to the power mages had over the lives of others?

After seeing that the boy was recovering slowly on his own, the tall man stumbled away from the table, barely managing to stand on his feet. The boy and his family insisted on uttering their heartfelt gratitude to him, but he simply waved it away, appearing too tired to listen. As the happy family started making their way out of the building, Hawke looked at the other members of her party, giving Fenris a particularly long and inquisitive stare. He had expected it to be full of accusation, yet instead her demeanour seemed to be full of concern, and.. was it apprehension? He looked at Hawke with startled surprise – was she really worried about approaching the healer? Then perhaps her cause was not lost after all.

But Fenris didn't have a chance to verbally warn her about the suspicions he harboured, because the healer had sensed their presence in the room. Without any warning, he turned around, gripping a wooden staff in his hands, his eyes blazing with strange light. "I have made this place a sanctum of healing and salvation," he roared furiously, his voice sounding strangely hollow and otherworldly. "Why have you come here to threaten it?"

"We mean you no harm," Hawke replied immediately, raising her hands in a defensive posture. "In fact...," she paused slightly before giving Fenris the slightest of glances. "We've come here to ask for your help."

"My help?" The man repeated with surprise and blinked, lowering his staff by a minuscule amount. His voice sounded normal now, without the strange echo it had harboured a moment ago. "You mean you're not working with the Templars to bring me back?"

At this Hawke laughed and shook her head, her red hair falling everywhere. "No, trust me, we're not working with the Templars," she said, apparently amused at the thought. "And where would we be bringing you back anyway?"

"Back to the Grey Wardens, of course," the healer replied. He seemed satisfied with Hawke's response because he lowered his staff completely and propped it up against a wall. His lips broke into a smile as he looked at the mage. "You see, I am an exile, of sorts. But seeing as you don't know about that, I believe I'm still safe for now," the man nodded at Marian. "My name is Anders."

"I'm Hawke," the mage replied with a nod before waving a hand at her companions. "And these are my friends, who can no doubt speak for themselves. Well met, Anders."

"I certainly hope so," Anders said with a sigh as he leaned against one of the posts that held up the room and crossed his arms. He eyed Hawke with some curiosity, taking in the state of her arm. "So how can I help you, Hawke? I guess you're here for more than just some help with that infection?"

"Oh, that? It's nothing, really," she said with a shrug as she looked down at her arm. "We're actually here to ask if you would be willing to share with us your knowledge about the Deep Roads.. say, in the form of a map or two? If you were a Grey Warden once, surely you've been there?"

"The Deep Roads?" Anders said while raising an eyebrow. "Yes, I've been there, more than I would like. Why on Earth would you want to go to that Blighted place? Oh wait, I see," he said as he rolled his eyes condescendingly. "Of course. Treasure. It's always about treasure with you people, isn't it?"

"And what's wrong with that, exactly?" Isabela snorted as she looked at the healer with disdain. "It should_ alway_s be about the treasure – a jingle in my pockets always cheers me up."

"Only if you're a mercenary who cares nothing for the lives of others," Anders replied hastily and moved on before Isabela had a chance to reply. "I do in fact have some maps of the Deep Roads that I might be willing to share with you.. if you would be willing to help me in return," he said, thoughtfully moving his long fingers across the light stubble on his cheek. "A favour for a favour – how does that sound?"

Fenris had watched the exchange between Anders and Hawke without interrupting their discussion despite the growing sense of_ wrongness_ that filled him. However, as the healer spoke of his proposal to break into the Chantry at night to seek out a friend who was also a mage, the elf was no longer able to contain his feelings. "Don't be foolish enough to trust this man and his promises," he growled quietly to Hawke without taking his eyes off Anders. "He will betray you, and whatever faith you put in him and his abilities."

The healer watched the elf with cold amusement. "Is that so?" He said haughtily before stepping over to Hawke and placing his hand on her wounded arm, a gentle glow beginning to flow from his fingertips again. Marian frowned at his touch, but her expression soon turned into one of relief and gratitude. Anders gave her a warm smile as he pulled his hand away from her, making Fenris clench his teeth. He watched how Marian slowly unwrapped the bandages around her arm and gingerly touched the skin that had been suffering from the infection from days. She looked up at everyone with a pleased smile that seemed to express exactly what she was feeling.

"We'll help him," she said simply while looking at the others. Fenris groaned softly under his breath and shook his head, unbelieving of the mage's blatant naivety. Did she truly believe that this man's meagre acts of kindness justified their aid in his foolish plan? As Hawke went over the finer details of the plan with the healer, the elf watched them from a distance, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. He still believed that there was more to the healer than what met the eye, and it did not take long for him to be proved right.

_Later at night, outside the Chantry_

"Don't you run from me, abomination!" Fenris roared loudly as he approached Anders with the speed and determination of a furious tiger. They had just left the dark halls of the Chantry and their armour was covered in blood from the skirmish with Templars inside. Everything the slave had been afraid of had come true in a matter of seconds, as the strange healer had suddenly been transformed into a glowing demon at the sight of his Tranquil friend. Once they left the building, Anders moved away from the group with haste, trying to escape into a nearby alley. That is where Fenris caught up with him, bearing down on him like a snarling wolf. He grasped the healer's feathered collar, shaking it with force. "You will not escape from me that easily," the elf said, murder in his voice. "You will answer for your crimes, to me, and to those you slaughtered inside the Chantry tonight."

The mage shrugged roughly out of the elf's grasp and pushed him away, his face twisted in an expression of pain and hurt. "Get your hands off me," he said stubbornly, averting his eyes from Fenris' accusing gaze. "I've got nothing to say to you, elf."

"Do you have anything to say to _me_, Anders?" Hawke's quiet voice reached them both, making them turn their heads. She appeared to be alone; her other companions seemed to have left her, swiftly returning to their homes to avoid further detection no doubt. Fenris looked at the woman carefully, waiting to see what she would do. If she decided to side with this monstrosity of a man, Fenris would kill him anyway and deal with the consequences later. He was indebted to Hawke, but surely she could not expect him to idly stand by while this horror was wandering the streets of Kirkwall?

The healer sighed, his body slumping down to the floor as he buried his face in his hands, a weak sob shaking his shoulders. "What do you want to hear from me?", he morosely after a few moments of silence. "I see the way you look at me. I am not what you think."

"So I suppose we just imagined the demon that possessed you inside the Chantry then?" Fenris sneered, his fingers itching to do unspeakable things to this lying, two-faced man.

"It is not a demon, you idiot!" Anders shouted angrily as he looked up at the elf. "It's a spirit of justice. Surely you have heard of the good spirits of the Fade, Hawke?" His pleading gaze turned to the woman. "You are a mage, just like me – I saw the powers you used on the Templars," he said, his eyes begging for understanding. Hawke merely met his gaze and clenched her jaw as she motioned for him to go on. Fenris' muscles twitched in anticipation as he waited for the opportunity to crush the abomination's head between his hands.

Anders looked down at the ground again. "This spirit.. I met him during my travels as a Grey Warden," he continued with a sigh. "He recognized the injustice that was done to mages all across Thedas and wanted to work with me to stop it. I decided to work together with him, to try and help all mages and free them from the oppression of the Circle. The spirit needed a body to stay in this realm, and I.. I offered to be his host," he said with a shrug. "I cannot hear his voice in my head anymore, and over the years his emotions have also become mine. We are now one and the same."

"_Wonderful_. Because nothing ever goes wrong when mages decide to consort with demons,_ does it_," Fenris laughed, but there was only bitterness and hatred in his voice. The lyrium markings on his skin started glowing more brightly, lighting up the darkness around them as he felt himself beginning to lose control of his powers in the presence of this monstrous being. "Don't you people _ever_ learn from the mistakes of others? You disgust me, and you deserve to die for what you've become," he said roughly as he clenched his fist and allowed his fury to fill him whole. He was about to lean down and kill the abomination when he felt Hawke's fingers gently touch his arm, causing him to shudder at the sudden contact. The glow of his lyrium markings diminished swiftly and he watched as Hawke knelt beside Anders, looking at him with sadness in her eyes.

"The spirit you harbour inside you is a danger to everyone, especially yourself," the mage said quietly as she looked down at him, her voice full of emotion. "No matter what intentions you might have had when you allowed it to possess you, they do not justify your actions. It is no longer a spirit of justice, Anders. It is not justice to slaughter people without cause. This spirit is a source of power for your revenge, and it feeds your anger and hatred of the Templars. This hate has twisted your mind, and eventually, it will be your undoing."

Anders stared down at the ground as she spoke to him and closed his eyes. Fenris stood still, marvelling at the truth in Hawke's words, shocked at the wisdom she seemed to possess. He suddenly realised that this woman had a deep reservoir of emotion and intelligence, usually masked behind her frivolous veneer, held up to the world like a shield of words and gestures. He had glimpsed this twice already in a matter of hours and it still took him completely by surprise.

Without saying anything further, the mage stood up and grasped Fenris' hand as she turned to walk away. For once in his life, the elf ignored the discomfort he felt at the touch of another as he stared down at the abomination, unwilling to move. Every instinct in his body was screaming at him to kill this man where he lay right now in order to spare others the suffering he was undoubtedly going to cause in the future. He was not fooled by the healer's attempts to justify his actions, or by the acts of kindness he had showed to the inhabitants of Darktown to clear his own guilty conscience. But when he felt the tugging touch of Hawke's fingers around his arm again and saw the look of understanding in her eyes, he found himself turning and following her out of the alley. They had almost reached the end of the path when he heard the abomination's voice once again, shouting out behind them:

"I will honour our bargain, Hawke. You will get your Deep Roads maps tomorrow."

Marian gave the man the slightest of nods before leaving the healer behind, exiting the alley with Fenris, who walked quietly next to her. When they had reached a relatively safe distance from the Chantry, the former slave spoke once more.

"We should have killed him," he said resolutely, still reeling from experiencing Hawke's caress when she had pulled him away from Anders. He had not felt pain or even a twinge of discomfort, which is something he had always endured when Danarius had put his hands on him. Why did Hawke's touch make him feel different?

"I know," Hawke replied quietly as they walked through the deserted streets of Hightown. "But I didn't want his blood on my hands, especially after he had already helped me. His curse will be his own undoing," she added.

The elf stopped in his tracks, his rage suddenly engulfing him once more at her words. "How can you be so sure?" He asked, his voice full of frustration. "Don't you realise what a danger he is to himself, and to others? Don't you realise how many people he can harm with his.. his _gift_?" He spat out the last words as if they were poison. "Surely you can't defend this.. abomination, this plague on the world he claims to defend! Can't you see him for what he really is?"

Hawke turned and faced him, her hands curling into fists. "Of course I can see what he is," she said, sounding equally frustrated and pained by Fenris' accusations. "If I had known that he was harbouring a.. spirit inside him, I wouldn't have helped him break into the Chantry tonight. But my feelings don't give me the right to kill him, Fenris. Because of him that boy he saved in Darktown lives to see another day. Because of him my arm feels so good I feel like doing cartwheels. Because of him we'll now have the maps we need to proceed with the expedition, and-"

"And because of him a mage was made Tranquil and the Chantry is now full of dead Templars," Fenris retorted angrily. "How has this helped your cause, Hawke? Is he what all apostates should be looking up to? Do you want to be like him and maybe harbour a demon of your very own?"

"Andraste's left butt cheek, of course not!," Hawke swore loudly and drew near him, her bright eyes looking firmly into his. Her body was tantalizingly close to his now, and he became increasingly aware of the fact that she was wearing nothing but a light robe tonight, with no armour to protect her skin. He could feel the gentle touch of her breasts as they brushed lightly against his chest. The sensation almost made him lose his mind. "If you feel so strongly about this, why didn't you just kill him right then and there?" She asked, her hot temperament flaring as she looked at him, her defiance written across her face.

Her closeness smothered him, making him unable to breathe. His face grew pale as he looked into her eyes, so large and bright they seemed to be filling his world. His heart raced furiously in his chest, beating so loudly he was sure that Hawke could hear it. He said the only thing he could think of, the only thing that made sense. "Because you didn't want me to," he said.

Hawke's eyes grew even wider at his words. Her dark red lips parted slightly with surprise in a fashion Fenris found incredibly appealing. Horrified by the thoughts that were running through his mind, taunted by a desire he could not comprehend, he suddenly moved away from her, almost staggering as he turned his back on her. "I made a promise to work for you," he said quietly, desperately trying to gather his senses. "I will not break that promise by killing someone you want kept alive." The words sounded meaningless in his ears, but it was the best he could do. "I believe our business is done for the night. I bid you farewell."

He left as fast as he could without looking back, knowing that her gaze followed him until he disappeared out of sight.


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note:** I really like this chapter, probably because I'm a romantic at heart. :) Thank you again for all your support, and I hope you are continuing to enjoy the story!

**Disclaimer:** Fenris, Hawke and all other characters in this story are owned by Bioware. I'm just here to play with them.

**Wolf Unchained, Chapter 9  
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After his last encounter with Hawke, Fenris did not see her for weeks. He left the mansion only in the middle of the night, stalking the rooftops and the narrow alleys of the city, exploring and searching for something he couldn't grasp. His thoughts were in complete disarray. For the first time in his life, he couldn't see a clear way of moving forward with his life. He couldn't track down Danarius as his former master had likely returned to his stronghold in Minrathous, and Fenris dared not go near the city. He also couldn't renege on the promise he had made to Hawke, despite the fact that he wished to do so desperately, if only to shut out the voices in his mind and clench the desire he felt when he was near her. He felt like he was trapped in a prison of his own making, and he could see no way of escaping it. The horrible notion of lacking a purpose loomed over him like a double-edged sword, and he shied away from it by shutting it out, along with the rest of his confusion.

He spent his days cleaning the mansion and sorting through its many belongings, setting aside items he thought might be useful later. The rest he threw in a huge pile in the middle of the largest room, to be burned or destroyed later. The heap was littered with paintings encased in expensive frames, depicting landscapes with a Tevinter theme, the faces of famous magisters or some worshipped old god. Fenris hated all the Tevinter artwork with a passion, as it reminded him of the shallow and terrifying culture he had been a part of for so many years. Many fine examples of furniture were thrown into the pile as well, along with several bundles of clothing that had been reserved for the slaves of the household. During one of the expeditions in the slave quarters, Fenris had found a set of prayer beads wrapped up in some clothing, doubtless forgotten by one of the servants who had lived there. His long fingers moved over the smooth, worn-down surface of the beads methodically, marvelling at how light they were. A medallion was attached to the string that kept them together, and as Fenris flicked it upwards, the familiar face of Andraste stared up at him.

The former slave was suddenly gripped by an immense feeling of longing. He wondered if his mother had ever kept prayer beads like this, and if her prayers had ever gone out to the woman depicted in this medallion, and to the Maker she had loved and died for. During his time as a slave, Fenris had rarely thought about the Maker and his bride. His heart had been filled with loathing at the thought of some god looking down at him from heaven, watching his daily struggles without lifting a finger to aid those in need. It hadn't just been self-pity that had possessed the slave. He had seen so much injustice inflicted on those all around him, to other slaves and innocent children who did nothing wrong except for getting in the way of some magister's ambitious path. He remembered a time when Danarius had slaughtered a young girl only to use her blood for some ritual he performed to amuse his guests. The Maker had done nothing to stop it. If He even existed, the Maker had not cared. _Yet still.. _There was strange comfort in the smoothness of these beads, and he suddenly wished that he could share the faith of so many others, who went through their lives safely believing that the Maker was there to watch over them and protect them. Fenris had been alone for as long as he could remember, and he couldn't even begin to imagine what it would be like to trust someone. But the longing remained.

His fingers clasped the beads of prayer and he later put them on the mantelpiece above the fireplace in his room. He then continued onwards with the task of taking the mansion's belongings apart with swift determination. He found a large collection of wine in the cellar and made a mental note of it for the future, especially for those long and lonely nights that awaited him ahead. He systematically went about collecting items for several days, but the only thing he couldn't bring himself to touch were the books. He found them everywhere around the house – stacked in shelves, placed on tables, hidden in beds and cupboards. He put them all in huge stacks in his bedroom and then sat down on the floor, cross-legged, looking at them with fascination. He picked them up, one by one, and slowly started flicking through the pages with immense reverence. Some were filled to the brim with flowing, elaborate scripts he did not understand, whereas others depicted many gruesome images of people twisted in various shapes of distress. He knew these had to be books of spells, and that the images showed the effects of horrible blood magic rituals. These books Fenris liked the least, so he set them aside and pushed them away from him as far as he could. Other books he found a lot more pleasant and intriguing. This is how Hawke found him one morning, too engrossed in a particularly heavy tome to notice her approach.

"It's never too late for spring cleaning I see," She laughed softly, looking down at him with a smile on her lips. The noise startled him and made him close the book with a loud snap. He could hardly believe that he had allowed himself to be taken unawares like this, his nose buried in some book. Damn this woman thrice over.

He looked up at her warily. "What are you doing here?" He asked.

"I knocked," she said frankly, nodding back toward the entrance downstairs. She was wearing a light red tunic today and grey trousers that fit her rather tightly, accentuating her waist. On her feet she wore new boots of dark supple leather, polished to a sheen. "There was no answer, but I walked in anyway. I.. love what you've done with the place," she said with an amused smile, looking around at the bare walls, noticing the huge pile of items Fenris had gathered on the floor. "I've always thought that less is more. You can get a better feel for the place like this, now that all the furniture is gone," she continued cheerfully as she walked across the room to the fireplace, avoiding his stack of books as she went. "You can put your own stamp on it now. Make it more.. homely, and such." She stared into the fire for a while while biting her bottom lip, her hands resting against the cool stone walls.

"Hawke," he said.

"Yes, Fenris?"

"What do you want?" He asked calmly, cocking his head to look at her.

Hawke sighed and turned around, twisting her hands. "You're not much for small talk, are you Fenris? Down to the nitty gritty then, yes?"

He raised an eyebrow, trying not to show how this woman always seemed to disturb him. "That depends on what you have in mind."

"I need your help again," she said, looking at him imploringly. "We've got enough provisions to go ahead with the expedition, and since we've got the maps now there is nothing holding us back."

Fenris noticed how careful she was to avoid mentioning the abomination they had retrieved the maps from. "That's great," he said, pleased at how calm and collected his voice sounded. Anything to mask the confusion in his head. His hand moved slowly across the cover of the tome he was holding, feeling the binding with his fingertips. He waited for her to say what she had come to say.

Hawke's bluegray eyes bore into his. "I'd like you to come with us," she finally blurted out. "On the expedition, I mean. We could use someone of your fighting skills down there, especially if we come across any darkspawn."

"I've never fought any darkspawn before," Fenris pointed out to her, his face revealing nothing. "Wouldn't it be a better idea to take the.. Grey Warden?" He swallowed the word _abomination_ in his throat.

Her eyes flashed and she turned away, idly running her fingers across the mantelpiece. She saw the prayer beads Fenris had placed there and she touched them, glancing briefly at the medallion. "Anders did offer to come with us, despite.. what happened," she said. "I think he felt guilty over his outburst that day and wanted to make up for it," she turned her eyes to him again, but Fenris was quick enough to wipe the look of contempt from his face. He was sure that it had not been the first demonic "outburst" Anders had experienced, and it certainly wouldn't be the last. Nonetheless, he waited for Hawke to finish. "But I don't trust him enough to keep his senses during our time in the Deep Roads," she said. "I can't rely on him, and he seems to hate the Deep Roads anyway. So I declined his offer."

"What about your other.. friends?" Fenris enquired, looking at her through locks of silver-white hair that fell across his forehead.

Hawke smiled wanly. "Isabela was eager enough to tag along, for sure," she said with a laugh. "I think everything is a giant treasure hunt for that woman. Frankly I don't trust her to keep her hands in her pockets for as far as I can throw her, so she's not an option. Aveline has recently been promoted to guard-captain, have you heard? I barely see her these days. And Merrill seems rather preoccupied with something recently, although what that is I cannot say. Even Varric doesn't know."

"And what about your brother?" He asked. He had not seen much of Hawke's brother since they had met, but the man seemed strong and eager enough to prove his worth.

"Oh yes, Carver is coming," she said with a snort. "I think the Archdemon himself wouldn't be able to keep him away from this expedition. My mother has had absolutely no luck trying to convince him to stay, and Gamlen would just be happy to see us both of out the house. So yes, Carver is determined to come along, and I don't see a way of stopping him. But I would like someone else to be there with us," she added as she glanced at him. "Someone I can trust. I'd like that someone to be you."

Fenris looked up with surprise. This woman never ceased to shock him. "Since when do you trust me, Hawke?" He asked, his voice incredulous. He stood up and spread out his arms. "Did I not almost kill the abomination you call a Grey Warden the last time we met?"

"Almost," she said softly and smiled at him. Fenris tried not to think about the way her body had pressed into his during their last argument, but the thoughts came unbidden to his mind. He eyed her carefully as she stood there, the glow of the fire making her red hair look as if it were on fire. He felt drawn to her like a moth to a flame, and his fascination with her made him feel weak. "But you did not," she continued, her eyes sparkling. "You kept your word, though I can only imagine how difficult it was for you. You followed my orders, and you were there when it mattered. And because of that, I believe I can trust you enough to bring you to the Deep Roads.. if you would be willing to come with us."

Fenris looked at her for a while and then gave her a nod, mutely acknowledging the offer. Hawke smiled. "I'm glad you will be there, Fenris," she said softly. "It will be good to have someone there I can count on." She walked past him, putting a hand briefly on his shoulder on her way out. "Meet me in the Hightown market tomorrow morning, seven o'clock sharp. It will be a long journey and we will leave right away."

Fenris heard the entrance door close downstairs with a clang after she left, leaving him with his weakness, his feverish thoughts, and the silence of the deserted mansion. He wondered if Hawke was another prison he had trapped himself in, one that looked deceivingly like freedom. He knew that he was bound to help her in this expedition and that he really had no choice, but he felt no sense of duty toward her. Instead, he felt a sense of excitement at the prospect of following her into this mad venture, as well as the strange sense of longing he had felt as his fingertips slid across the smooth surface of those prayer beads. A longing to trust someone, and be trusted in return. That is what frightened him most of all.

_It will be good to have someone there I can count on_, she had said. Was it possible that she wished for the same thing?

_In the Deep Roads..._

The magnificent carved walls of the dwarven kings of old surrounded them wherever they went. The air they were breathing in was stale and smelled of age, piss, and rotting corpses. Fenris shuddered as he looked around, feeling as if the tunnel was shrinking before his eyes and closing in on him. He had never thought of himself as claustrophobic. As a slave, he had spent many days and nights locked away in dark rooms with nothing but his misery and hatred to keep him company, and it had strengthened his resolve. Although Danarius had preferred mental forms of torture because he cherished Fenris for his strength and appearance, the other bmagisters had not been so scrupulous. Fenris knew what it was like to experience the agony of blood magic on his skin, a power that twisted his bones and helplessly held him in place while the magisters laughed and sneered at him. Eventually he had become resilient to this form of torture as well, never giving them to satisfaction of seeing him suffer, or hear him cry out in pain. And when they locked him away in some dark cell and left him for days, he spent his time travelling inwards in his mind, forgetting all notions of space and time until his body hardly even required the most basic of needs.

But there was something about the Deep Roads that really troubled Fenris. These tunnels were built deep underground, stretching out for countless miles across several countries, housing nothing but death and destruction in their halls. He wondered what strange madness had possessed these dwarves to dig so deep and so far all those centuries ago, without ever longing to feel daylight on their skin, or inhale the smell of fresh mountain air in their lungs. During their journey into what felt like the bowels of the earth, Hawke and her companions passed many tunnels that had caved in due to age and neglect. Fenris always looked away from the rubble, shuddering. He did not wish to think what it would be like to be buried alive.

"Grim, isn't it?" Varric said as he walked up to the elf, struggling to keep the pace Fenris was setting with his long strides. The former slave merely nodded in agreement, but it was enough for the dwarf to continue. "I reckon my ancestors must have been out of their minds when they built all this. Well, either that, or really _really_ drunk," he said with a snort. "I've heard about the ale they serve in Orzammar, and I reckon it's potent enough to mess with anyone's head."

Fenris' gaze swept across the stone walls and floors that surrounded them, lit up only by the powerful torches the group was carrying. They had gathered quite an impressive team for the expedition, at least thirty strong men. They had all followed Varric and his brother Bartrand into the Deep Roads with promises of riches and treasure ringing in their ears.

"I think it takes a particular sort of madness to want to live under the ground all your life," Fenris said, his voice echoing strangely in the darkness of the halls.

"Can't help but to agree with you there, Elf," Varric said before taking a gulp from a flask he was carrying in his pocket. Fenris highly doubted it was water. "I think the fact that our family got exiled is probably the best thing that could have happened to us," he added, screwing the lid of the flask back on. "I would have been miserable growing up in Orzammar, among the noble caste who pretend they're too noble to take a shit, when in fact they're just as scheming and vile as everyone else. Although I doubt Bartrand would ever agree with me on that note. He's got a soft spot for our history."

Fenris glanced at Varric's brother, who was somewhere ahead in the ranks, shouting orders to the people around him and generally looking extremely agitated. The elf had a hard time believing that Bartrand had a soft spot for anything other than treasure. He glanced behind him and spotted Hawke and Carver walking together along the last lines of the party, laughing and talking to each other amiably. Fenris smiled and looked away. They seemed to be getting along much better during this expedtion and this was the first time Fenris had seen Carver smile. He imagined that Hawke's brother was grateful for being taken a long to the Deep Roads, despite the differences of opinion he often had with Marian. Yet it was strange to think how much they still had in common, like their hotheaded temperaments. He wondered, not for the first time, what it would be like to share that kind of bond with someone else.

They continued onward for several hours, until they found their path blocked by a terrible cave-in. Bartrand looked less than happy about it, but by then Fenris had already come to the conclusion that Varric's brother was never happy about anything. They decided to set camp near the ruined tunnel until they could study the maps Anders had provided them with and find an alternative route to the thaig. Fenris decided to take the opportunity to get some shuteye, so he moved away from the rest of the party to a more secluded spot. He opened his satchel and withdrew a soft woollen blanket that he had brought with him from the mansion, placing it across the cold stone ground. He put his satchel at one end of the blanket and then stretched out across it, resting his head on the makeshift pillow. The sounds of the rest of the party grew dimmer around him as he closed his eyes, trying to imagine that he was somewhere in a forest instead of several miles below the surface of the earth.

Suddenly he felt something grazing against his skin. He opened his eyes and saw Hawke's face looming above him, her hair falling across his arms.

"Hawke!" He grunted and blinked as he slightly brought himself up, resting on his elbows. "Don't you ever learn to-"

"Oh Fenris, I'm sorry," she said with a laugh as she pulled away, sitting on her knees as she grinned at him. "There was no door this time, so I couldn't knock. Besides, I was fascinated by how peaceful you looked while you were sleeping."

"I wasn't sleeping. I was merely closing my eyes," he replied defensively while he rubbed his eyes and stifled a yawn. Perhaps he was more tired than he had thought. "Besides, don't you have anything better to do than sneaking up on people while they're.. not sleeping?"

"Not really," Marian said with a shrug. "Everyone else has sort of caught on to your idea, you see." She nodded toward the rest of the camp, which to Fenris' surprise was filled with people who were lying across the floor or resting against the walls, trying to make themselves somewhat comfortable. Only Varric and Bartrand were still awake, their heads brought closely together as they studied a large and detailed map of the Deep Roads by the light of a blazing torch.

"Maybe you should try getting some sleep as well then, and allow me to do the same," Fenris suggested, a hint of grumpiness in his voice. How come this woman always managed to take him by surprise and then rope him into casual conversation? And why did it always feel so natural?

"I was just about to do that," Hawke replied impatiently and showed him the bundle in her hands, containing the bedroll she was intending to sleep on. "I was simply trying to get further away from_ him_," she said as she pointed at her brother. Carver was sprawled out some twenty feet away from them, fast asleep and snoring with the strength of an ogre.

Fenris couldn't hide his smile. "Alright then Hawke," he said benevolently as he leaned back down and turned his back on her. "You may sleep here. But I promise that if you start snoring like that as well, I will have no qualms about kicking you all the way back to Carver."

"Cheers," Hawke muttered as she laid her bedroll on the ground next to his and laid down across it. A small smile played across her lips as she took one last look at Fenris' back and then closed her eyes, drifting quickly off to a sound sleep.

He tried to sleep, but drowsiness wouldn't come to him. He sighed softly against the ground as he realised that it was no use. He listened to her breathing for a while and waited for it to become slow and regular before he made his move. His heart beat heavily in his chest as he carefully turned around, mindful to not make any noise. He rested his head back against his satchel and laid on his side as he watched her sleep, his own tiredness washing away, forgotten. Red locks of hair were falling across her face in a carefree manner, partially shielding it from his view. He noticed that she looked pale, yet her features were calm and undisturbed. He watched how her eyelashes fluttered only for a moment and her eyes moved behind their lids. He wondered what she was dreaming about.

He felt wicked, watching her unabashedly like this without her knowing, but he also relished the opportunity to finally study her face and her body without her gaze fixed upon him. The way she was laying on the ground next to him, curled up and sleeping so peacefully, Fenris had a hard time believing that this small, finely shaped woman was a dangerous apostate. The notion almost seemed ridiculous; she looked like an innocent child. He knew that appearances could be deceiving, yet thus far Hawke had done nothing to make him suspicious of her. She seemed to be exactly what she claimed to be – an apostate, trying to survive and provide for her family. Fenris realised that he couldn't fault her for that. He only hoped that she would be strong enough to resist the temptations that awaited her ahead.

As he watched and listened to her breathe, he once again he tried to figure out how she made him feel. He was attracted to this woman for some inexplicable reason, and despite the danger and sounds of warning in his mind, he could no longer deny it. He longed to know and understand her, and for the first time in his life he wondered what it would be like to feel this woman's lips on his own. Tiredness swept over him after a while. This time when he finally drifted off, sleep greeted him like an old friend.


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Note:** Angsty chapter ahead, but really that couldn't be avoided - although there's a bit of a surprise at the end. :) Thank you ever so much for all your reviews, you have no idea how much they inspire me to keep going. Your support means the world to me!

**Disclaimer:** Fenris, Hawke and all other characters in this story are owned by Bioware. I'm just here to play with them.

**Wolf Unchained, Chapter 10  
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By the time Marian woke up, Fenris was already awake and sitting not far from her, his sword placed in his lap. "Good morning Hawke," he said with a small smile as he ran the whetstone over the steel, sharpening the edge of his already razor-sharp blade. "Or whatever passes for a change of time in this dark and godforsaken place," he said as he looked around. "I was just about to wake you. I think Bartrand has found a way around the cave-in."

Hawke blinked and yawned lustily, stretching out her arms above her head. She then suddenly grimaced, wincing at the pain in her back. "I never thought I'd miss the bunk beds back at home, but I think I do now," she groaned as she tried to work through the knots in her muscles, provided by her rough sleeping place. She then looked up at Fenris with a wicked grin. "So, did I snore?"

His green eyes met hers, but only for a moment. "If you had, you would have woken up next to your brother, remember?" He looked back at his blade, following its descent as he continued to sharpen it.

"Fair enough," she laughed and got up, pulling her bedroll along with her and bundling it quickly together. "Oh Maker, I hope there's enough time for me to eat something before we get moving again. I feel like I could eat an entire bronto, even without Carver's help."

He watched her thoughtfully as she returned to where the rest of the group had made camp, his fingers never leaving his blade. He then gripped the shaft of his sword and lifted it, swiping the air with a sharp practice swing. A small smile of anticipation danced across his lips. The depths of the Deep Roads awaited them, and Fenris was ready to face whatever came their way.

_Many dead darkspawn and rock wraiths later_

"What the hell was that thing?" Varric cried out as he lowered his crossbow. Bianca almost seemed to be smoking from the fast-paced use the dwarf had just put it through. He stared down at the remains of the enormous rock wraith they had just defeated, its corpse still littered with rocks, an unpleasant red glow still lingering on the surface.

"Beats me," Fenris said lowly as he kicked a random rock across the floor, making sure that it wasn't getting up again. "But now it's dead, and we're not. That's all that matters."

"You've got that right," Hawke said with a grim smile as she pulled Carver up from the floor. He seemed to have taken some damage during the fight, as his skin was looking ghostly pale and his eyes had a strange, hollow glow. The mage seemed too thrilled about their victory to notice these changes in her sibling. "Shall we see about that treasure then, boys?" She said excitedly as she dusted off her robes and walked toward the vault the rock wraiths had guarded so fiercely.

"And then let's see about getting out of here and kicking Bartrand's nug-humping arse into the next century," Varric said with a growl as he followed Hawke to the vault. Varric seemed to have taken his brother's betrayal very hard, and Fenris couldn't really blame him for that.

The entire expedition had been shattered into several stray groups after Bartrand had betrayed them over an ancient relic they had found in the abandoned thaig. Varric's brother had trapped them in the ancient ruins by blocking the exit, leaving the group to find an alternative route back to the surface. Many of the hirelings did not survive the journey. Hawke had done her best to protect them, but the Deep Roads were treacherous and the people were frightened, difficult to lead. Many died from starvation and others who were more unlucky had been carried off by monsters into the unknown darkness of the tunnels. There was something to be said about all the inhabitants of the Deep, darkspawn and wraiths alike – they all seemed to cherish a nice, fresh meal of human flesh. Yet they had continued on, determined to not give in to despair. The group had fought tooth and nail during every battle with the monstrous creatures in the old and forgotten halls. Hawke's magic seemed to flow forth with fierce strength and Fenris had matched it by tapping into his lyrium powers, destroying every enemy that crossed their path. They had been victorious, time and time again, but now only four of them were alive, from the group of thirty strong who had entered the Deep Roads, tempted by Bartrand's promises of treasure.

Varric's brother had a lot to answer for indeed.

As they slowly began making their way back to the surface, Fenris lost all track of time. The familiar concept did not seem to exist in this place of darkness and horror, where the enemy was always lurking and watching them from the shadows, waiting to strike. His sword was bloody and his armour had begun showing cracks, yet there was no time to make repairs and no time to rest. The darkspawn continued to ambush them again and again until he lost count of how many battles they fought. The walls kept closing in around them and the tunnels grew endlessly long until hope seemed like a small, disappearing glimmer of light in the never-ending darkness. He wondered dully if they were going to die somewhere in the depths of the Deep Roads, buried beneath the earth to never be remembered by anyone. The thought almost made him laugh out loud, the irony of it amusing him. The only one who would miss him if he died was Danarius, who would never get his lost property back after all.

When the inevitable happened, Fenris realised that he had seen the signs all along, without giving it much thought. There was something about these horrid, darkspawn-infested tunnels that had frightened him from the start, and he had been too worried about his own survival to even consider what was happening around him. Later on he would realise that Hawke had felt the same, which is why she would never forgive herself for her selfishness. But she should have known better. She should have known that it wouldn't have made any difference, even if she had tried to save him. In the Deep Roads, the darkness stole away your soul.

"I don't think I can go on any longer," Carver's voice drifted over to them before he collapsed helplessly to the ground. A sliver of dark red blood dripped from his lips. He coughed and spit the congealing liquid on the cold stone, his eyes drifting shut. Fenris stopped and looked behind him, his eyes filling with pity.

"Carver?" Hawke's fearful voice reached his ears as she hurried over to her brother, dropping her staff to the ground as she knelt down beside him, her eyes filling with tears as she saw the paleness of his face, the dark veins that were protruding from his skin, the hollow, knowing look in his eyes. "No, Carver, please. Not you. I'm not letting you go," she whispered feverishly as she took his hands in hers and pulled him close. The shock of Carver's fall was written across her face. Her robe was torn from the countless battles she had fought, her hair a tangled mess of exhaustion. She had been too eager to reach the surface, too occupied with fiercely clinging to her own life to notice the sickness that had slowly been eating at her brother for days. Fenris exchanged a solemn look with the dwarf. Both of them looked away.

Carver merely smiled as he looked up at his sister, taking in a rattling breath. "It looks like I got my adventure after all," he said, a weak laugh escaping his lips and quickly turning into another terrible cough. "Don't be afraid, Marian," he whispered, squeezing her fingers as he held on to the last moments of his life. "You were always the strong one. You must go on, for both of us. Promise me," he croaked, looking up at her. She could see the taint in his eyes, like it was another demon that lurked in the shadows of her sanity. Inside, her heart was breaking. She couldn't believe that her headstrong brother was falling apart in front of her eyes, Carver who had always been so stubborn, so determined to make his own mark on life. They had quarrelled more times than she could count, and yet she had always loved him. She had always known that Carver would be there to protect her, no matter what came their way. How could they have come to this?

"No Carver, don't you dare to do this to me," Marian sobbed as she cradled him in her arms, her voice filled with desperate determination. She couldn't stand to lose him, not here in this dark and horrible place, not when they were so close to the surface. She couldn't stand to lose another sibling, see another life slipping away that she couldn't save. "I will save you, just watch me," she said fiercely through her tears as she unclasped her hand from his and held it over his body,. She closed her eyes as she focused, willing forward the healing light that Anders had used so well in his Darktown clinic. But in Marian's hands the light was nothing more than a mere flicker, a tiny echo that vanished within seconds, extinguished by her own sorrow and despair. The heart-wrenching wail that escaped her lips echoed into the dark tunnel, returning from the Deep in the form of a monstrous, inhuman laugh. She had failed her family once more, and the horror of her brother's dying face filled her with dread.

"_Promise me_," he whispered, his cold lips barely moving as he stared into her eyes. He withered away in front of her, turning increasingly pale, dark veins of the darkspawn taint covering his face and turning his eyes red, so terribly red. She cried and held his hand as she promised him everything, promised to somehow get out of there alive, promised to look after mother, promised to never forget him. She would have promised him the moon and the stars in the sky if only it could have brought him back to her. His hold on her hand increased, turning into a gripping vice, and as he opened his mouth and howled at her in fury the fire from her fingertips took on a life of its own, engulfing his screaming body in bright flames that surrounded them both, making her feel warm for the first time in days. She could smell something burning and realised that the flames had reached her as well, and for a moment she wanted to give in to them and let them take her away from the pain she felt inside. She felt hands pulling her away and heard worried cries somewhere in the distance, but by then she was already at the edge of darkness, which she mercifully embraced.

After some time, how long she could not say, a voice called her through the darkness. She was unwilling to leave the soft comfort of the oblivion, yet the voice continued to insist, calling her back to a terrifying reality where some horrible truth awaited her, something she did not wish to face.

"Hawke, wake up," the voice continued calling, its deep and sombre tones stirring something within her. She finally opened her eyes and saw Fenris as he was leaning down next to her, his eyes full of concern. His fingers were touching her cheek, rubbing it gently in an attempt to wake her. "Varric, she's coming around," he shouted across his shoulder as he saw her stirring.

But it was not the elf's name that she whispered, as the terrifying truth dawned on her. "Carver," she said, her eyes filling with tears once more.

Fenris avoided her gaze, which held so much pain and suffering. He had never seen her so vulnerable before, so naked in her emotions. "I'm sorry, Hawke," he said, feeling the awkwardness of his words. He pulled his hands away and stood up, allowing the dwarf to approach her.

Varric looked down at the mage anxiously, his face lit by the torch he carried in his hand. "Oh, thank the Maker," he exclaimed as he saw her open eyes. "Hawke, don't you ever scare us like that again," he said as he helped her get up from the ground, keeping a hand around her waist. "We had to pull you away from the fire, and just in the nick of time as well. Don't mind the darkspawn corpses, me and the Elf took care of them while you were.. er.. resting."

"How long was I out?" She asked as she took a deep breath and swallowed the large knot in her throat. She could smell her own singed hair, but otherwise her body seemed to be fine. She glanced behind her and caught a small glimpse of her brother's charred corpse. It was lying abandoned in the dark tunnel, visible only by the faint light of the torch. Her heart ached again, but she refused to listen to it. Grief would have to wait until they were safe.

"Only for a little while," Varric said and released his grip on her as she stood up on her own. "You can thank the Elf here for saving you from your own blazing fire," he said as he nodded at Fenris, who was standing slightly apart from them. Hawke glanced at him and offered a mute thank you. He nodded and handed over the staff she had dropped in the tunnel at the sight of her brother's collapsing frame. She glanced down at it and stroked the wood with her fingertips, gathering her strength.

"I think I'm ready to leave this place," she said with quiet determination as she clenched her teeth. She hardened her heart as she turned around and started walking in the opposite direction from Carver's body, refusing to look back again. She had made a promise to her brother to escape this place alive, and that was one promise she intended to keep.

Fenris watched her carefully as she took the lead, wondering how long she would be able to walk before she collapsed with exhaustion. It turned out that Hawke was more enduring that he or Varric could have predicted. They continued making their way through the tunnels for many hours without stopping for rest, the silence of their surroundings sounding strange in his ears. It appeared that the Maker had shown them some small form of mercy after all, and after Carver's death they encountered no more darkspawn during their journey. Fenris' thoughts drifted back to the moment of Hawke's brothers demise, remembering the fear he had felt.

He had pulled Hawke out of the fire and doused the flames that had threatened to leap from her brother's corpse to her own frail body. She had fainted in his arms in her grief and he had carried her away from the scene, only to be ambushed once again by another group of darkspawn. He had placed her body behind him as gently as he could, rushing out to defend her with his greatsword in his hands. The fight had been grim and ruthless, with only Varric there to fight at his side, but the urgency of the moment had given Fenris the strength he needed to defeat them. As he returned to check on Hawke, a strange ache had filled him at the thought of her not waking up again. He had reached out and touched her cheek, calling her name repeatedly until she had finally answered his cries. The relief he had felt at that moment was considerable.

"I think we better make camp here," Hawke said, interrupting his thoughts. He looked up and saw her standing next to the rubble of another cave-in, staring off into the distance with her arms wrapped around her sides. A light breeze made the hem of her robe flutter. Fenris lifted his head, looking ahead. The tunnels seemed to be getting brighter now, which meant that they couldn't be far from the surface.

"Good idea," Varric said behind him, sounding out of breath as he approached Hawke and threw his belongings carelessly to the floor next to her, collapsing to the floor in an instant. The journey was taking its toll on them all.

"I'll take the first watch," Fenris said as he looked around, taking note of the adjacent tunnels on either side of their path. They seemed quiet for now, but nothing was ever certain. He walked up to the mage, making sure that he didn't startle her. "Get some rest, Hawke," he said quietly. "We'll be home soon."

"Home," Hawke said tonelessly as if testing the word on her lips, her eyes distant and unseeing. "Yes. Home," she repeated with a sigh. She then turned around and started rifling through the rubble, searching for sticks they could use to make a fire. She busied herself with this task for a while as the dwarf snored and Fenris kept watch, observing her movements quietly. Once she got the fire going, Hawke settled down next to him, wrapping her arms around her knees as she stared into the flames. They left strange shadows on the walls, moving in a silent, unsettling dance. Fenris pulled out a cloth from his rucksack and cleaned the rust and blood from his blade with slow, smooth motions. He then produced his whetstone and placed the sword across his lap as he sharpened the edges of the blade, the scraping sound of steel filling the air.

"Does it have a name?" She asked quietly all of a sudden. "Your sword, I mean."

Fenris shrugged. "No, it doesn't. I usually don't get to keep my swords long enough to name them. And I don't want to get too attached to it, in case it breaks and I have to replace it."

Silence followed this comment, while Hawke continued to stare intently into the fire. "Carver's blade had a name," she said with a small smile. "He called it Peaches, after some girl he met back in Lothering. He never told anyone about it, and I had to coax it out of him. He made me swear to never tell anyone about it."

"Sounds to me like you just broke that promise," Fenris pointed out gently with a small smile, while he continued to sharpen his blade, his eyes following it down along its edge.

"I guess I did," Hawke agreed. The flames cracked and spit as they licked at the meagre pickings of the wood she had gathered. She watched the dance of the flames while he honed his sword, two silent figures in the darkness. Eventually he set the sword aside. A small sigh escaped her lips as her head drifted down to his shoulder and she closed her eyes. His body stiffened for only a moment before he exhaled and remained still, unmoving. He felt her face burrowing gently into his shoulder and he watched as a small, silent tear ran down across his armour plate. Slowly, uncertainly, he raised a hand and put it around her shoulders, holding her to him. He felt the warmth of her small body pressing into his side and he felt his eyes drifting shut at the unusual sensation of closeness. His lyrium markings glowed weakly in the darkness, yet he felt no pain at the touch of her skin against his. Her hand snaked across his side and she sighed again. He could feel the small tremors of grief that ran through her as she cried silently into his shoulder. After some hesitation he ran his fingers slowly through her hair and he felt her hand squeezing his side in appreciation of the gesture. Fenris felt so strange. He had never comforted anyone before.

She slowly lifted her head and looked up at him, her bright bluegray eyes speckled with tears. He could feel her breath on his cheek. "Thank you," she whispered, her lips turning into a small smile. She leaned forward and nuzzled the lyrium brand that marked his chin with her nose, making his muscles tense at her sudden affection. He instinctively began pulling away, but then her arms were around him, surprising him with their strength as she pulled him close. Suddenly he could feel her lips on his own, gently caressing him with the softest of touches as they tried the untested waters of his skin. As her tongue gently licked at his lips as if posing a question, he moaned into her mouth and answered her gesture, feeling himself respond with a longing he had never known and a desire he could no longer control.

His tongue met hers as a wave of ecstasy ran through him, his fingers wandering into her hair, stroking and tugging at the strands of her fiery red locks with utter abandon. His desire for her overwhelmed him and made him lose himself in her fervent kisses, the closeness of her body, the soft sighs of pleasure he felt against his face as his lips wandered further down her throat, biting into the nape of her neck. He felt himself growing hard against her and the urge to pin her down and take her right then and there howled inside him as he felt her fingers digging into his armour, clawing and tugging at the metal. But somehow, somewhere, he found the last ounce of resolve within him as he gasped and untangled himself from her arms.

"Hawke, no," he said, breathless from the sudden surge of passion he had just felt. She looked up at him with those large questioning eyes. She had never looked more beautiful to him as she did then, her lips bruised from their passionate kisses, her chest rising and falling rapidly, her hair falling across her face. She raised a hand to touch his cheek, and he turned his head to kiss her palm. Despite everything magic had done to destroy his life, this apostate had managed to wake a desire in him that he had never felt before. But darkness was closing in around them, smothering them with its oppressive weight. "I can't," he whispered against her skin and closed his eyes as he tried to explain. "Not here. Not like this."

She murmured a quiet understanding and pulled him back, her embrace now holding none of the desire he knew they had both felt a moment ago. He put his arms back around her and held her close, staring into the fire as he listened to the slowing beat of her heart. Time held no meaning in this dark place beneath the surface of the earth, and yet to Fenris this moment felt like a lifetime.


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Note:** So, as some of you may have already predicted, there's a couple of darker chapters ahead - because when things start going well, they also start going terribly wrong. :P I'm so grateful for all the reviews and support you guys! You really inspire me to keep going.

**Disclaimer:** Fenris, Hawke and all other characters in this story are owned by Bioware. I'm just here to play with them.

**Wolf Unchained, Chapter 11**

The red wine swerved slowly in the glass as Fenris moved it in his hand. One green eye watched it thoughtfully while the other was obscured by wave of white hair that fell across his face. He tilted the glass slightly to one side, observing how the liquid changed colour with the added hue of flames, brightening to the colour of blood. He finally ended his fascination with the wine by raising the glass to his lips and drinking it down in one fell swoop. He leaned back and closed his eyes, enjoying the rush of warmth that coursed through his body, forgetting himself in the gentle daze of inebriation. His armour lay on the floor next to him, the polished surface gleaming in the light. His bare chest rose and fell slowly, the fire exposing his flesh down to his waist, his legs covered with a pair of black trousers he had found somewhere in the mansion. The lack of armour exposed his scars, which were littered across his body in sharp gashes that would never fully disappear. On nights like this, the old pains ached with particular fierceness, reminding him that he would carry them for life. But even the copious wine that he had drunk tonight did nothing to scatter the demons of his mind, no matter how hard he tried to banish them. He brought the bottle to his lips again.

Once the survivors of the Deep Roads expedition had returned to the City of Chains, things changed quickly. The dwarf had swiftly gathered his contacts and started selling the treasure they had found in the thaig, giving a large portion of the profits to Hawke. The mage had arrived home without her sibling and she had been forced to endure Leandra's grief over the loss of yet another child. Although Hawke's mother denied blaming the mage for Carver's death, the silent accusation had been there on her face for everyone to see. Hawke shouldered the weight of the blame as Fenris had expected her to – silently, without complaint. He watched as she accepted her part in the deaths of her two siblings, dealing with the consequences of her actions with strength that most men lacked. Yet something seemed to have broken inside her when she faced her mother's accusing gaze, leaving the mage hollow. His awkward words of comfort had done nothing to erase the pain in her eyes and only silence had followed them. Distance had rapidly grown between him and Hawke, quickly turning into a gulf that neither of them were able to cross. It had been yet another inevitable repercussion in the aftermath of Carver's death.

The glass Fenris was holding in his hands suddenly snapped, broken shards cutting into his flesh and falling to the carpeted floor. He watched this happen absent-mindedly, his eyes following the small streams of blood that started running down his palm with dull fascination.

Weeks and months had passed while doubt and anger continued to sow their seeds into his mind and heart, growing with each passing day as he remained alone in his mansion. Dark thoughts circled through his head like carrion crows, shouting out to him the very things he didn't wish to hear. That he had been weak to show such strong emotion to someone he knew so little about, an apostate no less. That he had been foolish to almost give in to his desires when Hawke had most likely only needed the comfort of a body to drive off her own despair. That was the thought that cut the most, the idea that angered him the most – that Hawke had been using him to comfort herself, the way Danarius and his fellow magisters had used him so many times for their own selfish needs. He dared not confront the mage about it, afraid of hearing the inevitable denial. Fear and despair tugged at his heart until he could no longer breathe, and so he had turned to drink as his salvation and embraced the shallow mercy it offered.

The jobs that now came up were few and far inbetween. Hawke was busy restoring the mansion her family used to own in Hightown, before her uncle had gambled it away. She had bought it back with the money she had earned from the expedition, thus keeping another promise she had made to Carver – to look after their mother. Her friends observed as she threw herself into the restoration of the mansion, determined to be the daughter she had never been. That left little time for mercenary missions and gambling at the Hanged Man. Fenris had not spoken to her for months, and even during those rare occasions when they happened to meet somewhere, the conversations always seemed intentionally brief and hurried. These meetings left him angered and distraught, until he finally began accepting that his sudden outburst of emotions in the Deep Roads had been an utter mistake.

He started making weekly trips to the Hanged Man on his own, forcing himself to interact with Hawke's friends to avoid the voices of his own inner demons. Eventually he found himself seeking solace in their company and often drinking himself to a stupor by the end of the night. He learned to play Diamondback with Varric's helpful assistance and his participation in the weekly games soon became a routine. He often found himself losing to Isabela's clever tricks, but he took comfort in knowing that the petite elf who called herself Merrill usually faired a lot worse. He avoided the blood mage as a plague as soon as he realised what she was, but he learned to appreciate the company of Hawke's other friends as months continued to roll by. Aveline often visited the bar when she could, and Fenris grew to respect the guard-captain who never flinched from danger and always put her men first. He could not bring himself to call these people friends, and yet they almost seemed to fill a strange void that was left in his life with Hawke's absence. His thoughts continued to drift to Danarius, though the prospect of getting his revenge grew dimmer with every day. Several years had now gone by since Fenris had arrived to Kirkwall with his magister's hounds at his heels, yet of the man himself there was still no sign. It only served as another addition to the doubts that weighed on his mind.

Fenris got up and fetched another glass from the table, carelessly crunching the broken glass beneath his bare feet. It would hurt tomorrow, but tonight he did not care. He refilled the glass and emptied it again in an instant, though now he could feel much less of the warmth that had filled his body earlier. Still, he found it helpful to drown his thoughts in wine on nights like these, when thoughts of Hawke and his failed revenge haunted his mind like unbidden ghosts. It only seemed to dull his mind, however, and not the senses he had so finely honed over the years. When he saw the movement of a shadowy figure out of the corner of his eye, his reaction was swift. The fierce lyrium glow of his cursed brands filled him with power as he roared and rushed forth, gripping the intruder by the neck. He pushed them against a wall and pinned them there while they struggled in his grasp.

"Breaking into someone's house is not a very nice thing to do," he growled as he peered into the hooded face of the intruder. "Any last words before I break your neck, stranger?" He said, but the words almost died on his lips and his face grew pale as he saw the glimmer of familiar bluegray eyes staring back at him.

"Fenris.. It's me.." Hawke managed to say before her throat was completely cut-off by Fenris' hard grip. He blinked and released her in an instant, making her body tumble to the floor.

"Hawke?" He said incredulously, staring down at her as she coughed and spit, bringing a hand up to her neck where his fingers had held her. "What are you doing here?"

"Thanks for the welcome," she said hoarsely as she finally managed to stand up and push the hood of her cloak backwards. "If I had known what kindness you showed to your guests these days I would have sent this by courier," she shoved a book in his hands before walking over to the table where she had spotted Fenris' diminishing wine collection. She picked up a bottle and frowned as she shook it, feeling it was empty. She threw it over her shoulder. Fenris ducked as it flew right at him but missed, hitting the wall behind him.

"I... wasn't expecting you, that's all," he said as he looked down at the book she had given him, frowning. "We haven't spoken in.."

"Months," Hawke finished his sentence and tried another bottle. This one seemed more promising, so she popped its cork and brought it to her mouth, tasting the wine on her tongue. She swallowed and nodded approvingly. "Good vintage."

"I imagine Danarius enjoyed serving fine wine to his guests," Fenris said wearily as he watched her. He set the book on the mantelpiece behind him, hoping that she would not mention it. He doubted that he could stand the humiliation. "I found his wine collection not long after I moved in," he added and stuffed his hands in the pockets of his trousers, becoming painfully aware of the fact that he was not wearing his armour.

Hawke's gaze took in the surroundings, noticing the broken glass on the floor and the large amount of empty bottles scattered across the room. "I see you've been putting it to good use," she observed, one eyebrow raised as she turned her head to look at him. "Drowning your sorrows, perhaps?"

"My sorrows?" Fenris repeated dubiously, his green eyes flashing as he felt the wine course through his system. Was she mocking him? "What sorrows could I possibly have, Hawke?" He barked out a laugh and sat back down in his armchair, stretching out his long legs in front of him. "I haven't got a care in the world. I'm simply celebrating my success and good fortune. Why would I be upset?"

"Danarius," she said frankly as she continued to look at him, her gaze unreadable. She walked over to the fireplace with the bottle of wine still in her hands. "Are you still waiting for him to reclaim the mansion? It's been some time now, hasn't it?" She moved down to sit in the chair opposite him without waiting for an invitation.

The forced smile faded from his lips. "Ah," he said after a moment's pause. "Yes, it has."

She wordlessly handed over the bottle of wine and he accepted it without hesitation, taking a large swig out of it before handing it back to her.

"Do you think he might have given up on you?" Hawke asked before taking another gulp of wine. Her eyes watched him carefully.

Fenris shrugged, squirming at the uncomfortable gaze. He no longer enjoyed these conversations, not when they seemed to lead to so many dark places. "I don't know," he replied truthfully as he gazed into the fire. "It's been almost three years since I came to Kirkwall and there's been no sign of him. Perhaps it is possible that Danarius no longer wishes to reclaim me," he said, unbelieving of his own words. The silence between them lingered for a moment longer. The flames were growing weak. He leaned forward and threw another table leg into the fire, making it crackle with satisfaction. His systematic destruction of Danarius' belongings had now reached the second floor of the house. "What are you doing here, Hawke?" He asked again, the words echoing strangely in his head.

She leaned back in the chair and looked down at the bottle of wine, turning it slowly in her hands as she drew a breath. "I came.. to check up on you," she started and glanced at him, continuing with some hesitation. "And to tell you that I've missed you, Fenris."

Anger rose inside him like a wave at her words, her presumption astounding him. Did she assume that he was going to leap at her words with joy, like a pathetic dog at the sight of a meaty bone? Was there no end to the tricks this apostate was willing to play on him simply to keep him under her control? He blinked and looked away to hide his emotions, staring into the fireplace as he searched his mind for something to say. "I see," he said after some time. "And what exactly do you want me to do about that, Hawke?"

She looked at him for a moment, her eyes filling with apprehension. "I don't know," she replied, and then laughed. It was a bitter sound. "I realise that I've been avoiding you, along with everyone else. Hell, I've even been avoiding myself, ever since..," she trailed off, her smile darkening for a moment. "But nevermind about that," she said and laughed again. The falseness of the sound rang painfully in his ears. "As you so profoundly said to me once, I don't need your pity – although I'm sure you have none to give me. But I realise that I've been an arse to you, and I'm here to apologize for it. See, I've even brought you a peace offering, but you haven't looked at it yet. Not much of a reader, I take it?"

He stood up from the chair and walked over to the opposite side of the room before she could see the anger and frustration that contorted the features of his face. He placed his hands and forehead against the cool stone walls for only a moment, composing himself before he had to turn around and face her again. He could not afford to show more weakness. Not to this woman who seemed to take advantage of it so easily.

"I'm sure your gift will make a splendid addition to Danarius' library," he said as he turned to look at her, his face calm and composed while his thoughts raced furiously in his head. "I appreciate the gesture Hawke, but I'm afraid I don't have time to look at it," he said in what he hoped was a casual voice. He moved his hands back into his pockets. "It's Wednesday you see, and Varric's hosting a game of Diamondback at the Hanged Man. I already owe the dwarf five sovereigns, and if I don't win it back tonight he'll probably hire lackeys to break into the mansion and burn it to the ground," he said with a humourless laugh. "You know how it is."

Hawke looked down at the bottle in her hands, her gaze lingering there for an impossibly long moment as Fenris' impatience continued to grow. "I understand," she said quietly as she got up, returning the wine to the table. She pulled the hood back over her head, obscuring her red hair. The elf suddenly felt a pang of regret as he remembered how it felt to weave her locks around his fingers, yet he shut the treacherous thoughts out of his mind with all the determination he possessed. This weakness was killing him, and he could no longer afford it.

She walked past him before stopping with a hesitant step."There's something I might require your help with for in a couple of days," she said, her voice calm. "It's a matter of great importance for the Qunari and their Arishok. I hope I can still count on your service?"

"Of course," he replied stiffly, anxiously waiting for her to leave his sight. What a wonderful way for her to remind him that his debt still needed to be repaid.

She opened her mouth as if to add something further, but the words got lost in her throat. "Enjoy your game Fenris," she managed to say before heading for the exit with great haste. He listened to the echo of her footsteps in the empty hallway before the door closed behind her.

He sighed and ruffled his hair, slowly feeling the tension leave his body. He moved over to the fireplace and picked up the book once more, staring at its cover. He traced the title with his fingertips, wondering what it meant and knowing that he will never understand it, no matter how hard he tried. He glanced down at the fireplace and considered throwing it into the flames to rid himself of Hawke's influence, but could not bring himself to do it. He growled and threw it carelessly on the mantelpiece next to other useless items he had gathered over the years. He collapsed into the armchair once again and sighed. His fingers grasped the neck of another bottle of wine and he put it to his lips with unseeing eyes. The drink tasted like poison in his mouth. He flung the bottle against the wall, inches away from where Hawke's throw had hit it, his face twisted in grim determination. This was another weakness he could no longer afford.

_On the approach to the Wounded Coast_

He could hear the soothing approach of the waves as they lapped against the coast. The salty sea breeze ruffled his hair and the clear, bright light of dawn glittered in the sand, making it look as though the ground was scattered with diamonds. Fenris breathed in the scent of the sea and took in the view. His strange journey had taken him across the Nocen Sea and the depths of the Amaranthine ocean, making him travel all the way from the northern coast to the south. How much further would he have to go before he found the peace of mind he was looking for?

"Lovely morning to go hunting for some Qunari, isn't it?" Varric grinned and stifled a yawn as he looked out across the landscape. This was the first time Hawke had gathered her team of mercenaries in months.

"Speak for yourself, dwarf," Isabela grunted behind him as she caught up with them at the top of the dune, squinting as the bright sunshine was caught in her eyes. "My head feels like someone's been using it for target practice, and Andraste's bollocks, can't someone put out that light?"

"Awww Rivaini, not much of a morning person? What a surprise," Varric rolled his eyes while giving the pirate a gentle pat on the back. "Don't worry sweetheart, I'm sure that robbing some corpses will cheer you up soon enough."

"First we need to find those corpses," Hawke called out behind them as she quickly climbed up the dune, using her staff for balance. Somewhere behind her they could hear the excited barks of her mabari hound, Argo, who was enthusiastically racing through the sands in the pursuit of a group of seagulls. "Although I'd personally prefer it if we could find the Qunari patrol alive and unharmed, but that would probably require a small miracle," she said with a small smile. The fresh morning walk had coloured her cheeks, putting life back into her eyes. "Come on people. The sooner we find them, the sooner we can go back to the Hanged Man and help Isabela nurse her hangover."

"Not before we get their stuff," the pirate said firmly and moved forward to take the lead in order to scout for possible traps ahead. Fenris glanced at Isabela's back as they began moving toward the coast. It was not the first time the pirate had showed an extraordinary interest in dealings with the Qunari, although she always seemed to find a perfectly reasonable excuse to avoid attending their meetings with the Arishok. The elf wondered briefly this, but his thoughts were quickly interrupted as Isabela drew to a halt and held up her right hand in a signal of warning. The rest of the party stopped immediately. She was hunched down to the ground, her eyes darting from left to right as she listened for something. Daggers, Isabela's weapons of choice, were already poised and alert in her hands, her entire body tensed, ready to strike.

Hawke moved forward quietly, her back lowered to avoid detection. She approached Isabela and squatted next to her. "Raiders?" She asked and glanced around. They were currently hidden behind a large rising dune, yet they had been climbing up a slope and the higher ground above them was an ideal place for an ambush.

"Not sure," Isabela said through her teeth. "Couldn't be Qunari though."

"Why not?" Hawke raised an eyebrow.

"Because then our heads would already be rolling down the hill," the pirate whispered with a grin. Marian noted the excitement that was written across her face. Isabela thrived on the heat of the battle.

"How many?" The mage enquired while looking over her shoulder. Fenris and Varric were hunched down to the ground further down the slope, looking up at the women as they discussed the situation. The swift movement of a small shape suddenly caught her eye.

"Twenty, maybe thirty," Isabela replied, thoughtfully biting her lip as she looked ahead. "They're probably waiting for us to walk straight into their trap. I suggest we create a diversion to-"

"Argo, no!" Hawke cried out suddenly as the hound ran up the slope and vanished from their view, barking excitedly as he pawed at an unlucky seagull that tried to evade capture. The surprised shouts and curses of men in the higher ground above them reached their ears. Isabela and Hawke looked at each other.

"That'll work," the pirate said, grinning as she scrambled up the slope after the hound and rushed into battle with a laugh. Marian moved to the top of the slope with Fenris and Varric close behind her, momentarily overwhelmed by the large group of men that had been waiting for them. The clearing was covered in black smoke and men were coughing and trying to escape the toxic fumes while Isabela's amused laughter taunted them into battle. Argo had suddenly forgotten about the seagulls, his sharp teeth sinking into the arm of an opponent while he shook the man about like a toy and dislocated his shoulder with a loud snap. Even amidst the confusion of the sudden battle, Hawke noticed that there was something strange about the appearance of these men. They didn't look like raiders to her, instead they reminded her of..

"Hunters," Fenris growled next to her as he looked at the group, his eyes narrowing. A bright blue glow began emanating from his skin as his lyrium markings gave power to his rage. He rushed quickly into the group with a shrill battle cry, swinging the sword around him as bodies and limbs started flying in every direction, covering the clearing in spatters of blood. Someone in the crowd cried out "It's the slave! Get him!", to which Fenris responded with a roar. The swing of his sword cut the slaver's head clean from his shoulders. "_I am not a slave_," she heard him scream at the body as it fell to its knees, blood gushing from its neck like a fountain, but then the battle was upon her as well, giving her no more time to look. Hawke turned the staff dexterously in her hands and cried out as someone lunged for her with a knife. The blow of her staff connected sharply with the man's head, sending out a jolt of electricity trough his body as magic sparked from her weapon.

"A mage! Kill her!" Someone yelled and grabbed her from behind, knocking the staff out of her grasp and cutting off her air supply. She could feel them converging on her with a deadly swiftness and she ceased to struggle and closed her eyes in order to gather momentum. The power inside her grew rapidly and she rode on its wave as she opened her eyes once more, grinning madly at the slavers. "Not before I kill you first," she shouted as she sent out a blast-wave of magic around her, knocking the slavers backward several feet with surprised grunts. She gave them no time to recover as she grabbed her staff and channelled a fireball straight into their midst, setting the men aflame in an instant. Cries of agony mixed with urgent shouts in the air as the battle raged on. Marian glanced up at the sky and took a few steps back just in time to miss a dense rain of arrows that covered the sky. She could hear Varric's compliments to Bianca's excellence somewhere behind her. The sharp tips of his arrows seemed to find every weakness in the enemy armour, piercing their skin through their shoulder-guards and joints. Isabela's daggers took care of what Varric's arrows couldn't finish. The rogue pirate deftly avoided the incoming attacks, dodging and moving around her opponents as her daggers found their mark with lightning-fast accuracy. Hawke raised her hands to the sky as she focused her magic once more, the heavy rain of fire obliterating those who tried to approach her where she stood.

In the silence that followed the battle, Hawke looked down at the sea of dead slavers before her. The fight seemed to have finished as quickly as it had begun. Argo dragged several bodies into a pile and stretched out on the ground with all the gracefulness he could muster. He looked up at Hawke while he gnawed lazily on a leg with utter satisfaction, waggling his tail as he panted away. Varric leaned down and began retrieving his fallen arrows while gently stroking Bianca and murmuring soft words of affection the mage couldn't hear. Isabela was covered in blood from tip to toe, though she wasted no time on such trivial things as cleaning up. Hawke watched her as she kneeled down and started looting the bodies, looking for valuables while humming quietly to herself. The pirate retrieved a small golden chain out of a dead man's pocket and held it up to the sunlight, watching the gold glisten in her hands. A satisfied smile spread across her lips.

The mage's eyes continued to scan the area until they found what they were looking for. She saw Fenris leaning down over the body of man who appeared to still be alive. The elf's hands gripped his hair as he asked him something and then banged the man's head forcefully against the ground. Hawke started running.

"Where is he?" Fenris snarled furiously as he looked down at the slaver, his eyes full of hatred. He pushed his head forcefully down to the ground once more and the man grunted at the impact.

"Oh Maker, please don't kill me," the slaver sobbed. "I don't know where he is, I swear I don't know," he moaned as Fenris pulled at his hair, detaching some strands from his scalp. "Hadriana brought us!" He gasped, the words spilling out of his mouth. "She's at the holding caves, north of the city. I will show you the way, please, just don't kill me and I swear I will bring you to her," he pleaded, his fingers digging into the ground beneath him, his eyes shut tight.

"No need." Fenris' lips twisted into a cold grin that showed no mercy. "I know the place you speak of," he said before wrapping his hands around the slaver's neck and snapping it like a twig. He looked down at the man's body with disgust, seeing only one of Danarius' dogs that had been sent after him. "You chose the wrong master," he said with a sneer. Only then did he look up to see Hawke standing a few feet away, watching him. He looked away as he leaned over and picked up his sword, sheathing it back in its scabbard before he stood up.

"Hadriana," he said, his voice full of loathing as he spoke the name. He clenched his hands into fists. "One of my master's apprentices, and certainly the most ambitious one. I remember her well," his voice cracked as he looked off into the distance. "I was a fool to think they would ever let me be," he said with his green eyes blazing, barely noticing that he was speaking out loud. For the first time in many months Fenris felt his hatred towards Danarius and all his accomplices truly envelop him, filling him with a purpose he thought he had lost. His revenge could still be close at hand. "If she is here, it is at Danarius' bidding," he continued his thread of thought, beginning to pace back and forth. "This could be the chance I've been waiting for, the opportunity to strike a blow he will not soon forget." He stopped and took a deep breath. Every time he asked for her help, his burden of debt increased, chaining him to this woman who frustrated and angered him by getting under his skin. Yet he knew he had no choice. He swallowed his pride and broke the promise he had made to himself all those years ago. "We must go now Hawke, before she has a chance to escape," he said hesitantly, looking at the mage.

Thankfully, she nodded her agreement quickly. "The Qunari and their missing patrol will simply have to wait a bit longer. Lead the way, Fenris," she said grimly as she tucked a strand of red hair behind her ear and gripped her staff. "She will pay for what she had done to you."

"Oh well, I suppose I can always stand to nurse my hangover with some more treasure," Isabela shrugged as she approached them, shamelessly having eavesdropped in on their conversation. "Anything to keep our pointy-eared friend out of trouble, right?" She grinned as she wiped some blood off her face with her forearm.

"Right," Varric agreed as he holstered Bianca on his back and joined them. "Let's hope those Tevinters keep their valuables close at hand. Come on Elf, let's get going while the day is still young and there is more plundering to do," the dwarf drawled as he motioned for him to start moving.

But Fenris wasn't fooled by their light-hearted talk. His gaze swept over the faces of Hawke's companions when he suddenly realised that they weren't helping him for profit, despite Isabela's humorous claims. Somewhere along the lines his relationship with these people had changed. They were taking on the dangerous task of attacking a Tevinter magister because they cared for him and did not wish to see him harmed. The thought seemed preposterous and Fenris refused to believe it, and yet.. Why else would they put themselves in so much danger? He frowned as he glanced at Hawke. She was leaning down to stroke her hound's back, oblivious of his stare.

"The caves are this way," he finally said as he pointed to the rising slopes on their left, the dunes transforming to steep hills in the distance. He took point as they began making their way to Hadriana's hideout. His heart beat in his chest like the sound of war drums, blocking out everything except for the call of revenge that made his blood boil.


	12. Chapter 12

**Author's Note:** Angsty chapter is angsty - but then again, what else could you really expect? :) Thank you to all my readers for your continued support!

**Disclaimer:** Fenris, Hawke and all other characters in this story are owned by Bioware. I'm just here to play with them.

**Wolf Unchained, Chapter 12**

The smells of damp and fungi filled Fenris' nose as they entered the Holding Caves, his armour already slick with wet blood. They had caught a group of Imperial bounty hunters by surprise outside the caves, leaving none alive. Their presence only served to confirm that the slaver been telling the truth – Hadriana was here somewhere, and Fenris intended to find her. His mind was feverish, countless thoughts running through it as he slowly made his way through the dark tunnels of the caves with Hawke and her companions following behind him. He once again dared to hope that he might get one step closer to exacting his bloody revenge against his former master, and his blood howled furiously at the thought. He willingly gave himself up to its call, fighting with pure instinct when they were met with resistance in the tunnels, parrying and blocking the attacks of his enemies with a terrifying accuracy. His lyrium brands glowed furiously in the darkness as they moved forward, the light casting accusing shadows on the walls of the cave. Heartless magisters had made him into the monster he now was, magisters like Hadriana who were drunk on the power and control they possessed over others. Their twisted blood magic had filled him with their tainted gifts, laughing as they watched him suffer, and now he was here to exact his just vengeance on them with the same curse they had afflicted him with. Somewhere high above them the gods had thrown their dice, and now it was time for Hadriana to die while Fenris watched her suffer.

"Don't you dare run from me, you dogs!" He howled as he leapt forward, blocking the path of the terrified slavers who were trying to escape the cave when they realised what slaughter awaited them. His blade slashed through the air without mercy and if he sustained some wounds during his mad advance through the caves, he did not notice them until the battle was long over and the red mist had left his vision. He could hear Isabela's mocking tones somewhere behind him as she taunted her foes into a false sense of security before slashing their throats. Everywhere he looked he could see the faces of frightened or dying men. For every man he killed he could feel his anger growing, because Hadriana continued to elude him and it was her death he craved, not theirs. He moved further into the tunnel in search for his nemesis, but his feet came to an unwilling halt at the horrifying sight in front of him.

An elven girl was crouched helplessly among the corpses of other dead elves. Her fragile frame trembled with shock as she cried and hugged herself, her arms wrapped tightly around her knees. Her large eyes widened even further as she noticed Fenris, who had stopped a few feet away from her. "Have you come to kill me?" She whimpered, her voice choked with tears. She tried to move away, but found that her back was already against a wall. She had nowhere else to go.

Fenris shook his head, unwillingly sheathing his sword for the moment as the sounds of battle diminished behind him. "No, I'm not," he said carefully as he approached her. The helpless, pleading eyes made him cringe. He had seen them many times before. "Are you a slave?"

The girl nodded eagerly, her light, unkempt hair flying everywhere. "My name is Orana," she said, large tears spilling out of her eyes as she looked down at the body closest to her. "They killed my papa," she sobbed and hugged herself again, staring at the face of her dead father. "Why did they have to kill my papa?"

"Oh sweet Maker," Hawke said behind them as she rushed into the tunnel, her staff swinging at her side. She glanced at the sobbing girl and the dead bodies, giving Fenris a questioning look that he didn't see. He was still intently looking at the girl.

"Did Hadriana do this?" He asked sharply and shook the girl as he willed her to answer him. She seemed to weigh less than a leaf on the wind. Fenris withdrew his hand quickly, fearing that he might damage her already fragile body.

The girl nodded meekly. "Mistress killed them all," she said as she wiped the tears from her face and looked up. "Mistress seemed scared and she said they had to die so she could have more power," she continued with a sob. "She seemed so scared, messere."

Fenris paused for a moment and some distant part of his mind became horrified at the thought of being responsible all this death and destruction. He cast the idea violently out of his head, shutting it out. He knew the cold-hearted nature of Tevinter magisters better than anyone. Slaves were nothing but fodder for someone like Hadriana, and if it hadn't been for his untimely arrival she would have undoubtedly killed them at some other point in time. He had no time for guilt. "She has every reason to be," Fenris growled in frustration, but the girl continued on without hearing him.

"We always looked after the Mistress so well, both me and my papa," she said as she looked down at her dead father and the tears spilled forth again. "Why did she have to kill him? Everything had been so good before she killed him, we always tried our best to please her... "

Fenris closed his eyes and looked away, the meekness of this slave-girl being almost too much for him to handle. How weak they all were, how innocent, how helpless. Had he really been like that once himself? "Everything was not good," he sighed, his voice full of tiredness. "You just didn't know any better." The furious momentum that had led him into this room had vanished without a trace, leaving him hollow and aching. He felt Hawke's approach behind him, along with Isabela's quiet steps and Varric's hurried trot. Suddenly he wanted nothing more than to kill Hadriana and leave this place as quickly as he could. "Let's go," he said to the others as he turned to leave, but the girl's meek voice stopped him in his tracks.

"What about me, messere?" She asked tearfully as she stood up, gazing up at him with that terrible helpless stare.

"Leave this place," he said flatly. "Your Mistress will perish soon and there is nothing but death for you here."

"But where will I go?" She pleaded. "What will I do? Are you my new Master?"

"Maker, no!" He howled in frustration at her words. How could you give freedom to someone who didn't know what to do with it? What did he do with his own freedom, for that matter? Could it even be called that? "Just leave this place, go to Kirkwall, go to-"

"You can come stay with me," Hawke suddenly spoke up and knelt down as she withdrew a piece of paper from a pocket in her robes and scribbled something on it before she handed it to the girl. "That's the address for my mansion in Hightown. Go there and you will be well looked after, I can promise you that."

He watched with fright as the girl picked up the scribbled note, looking down at it with confusion. "But Mistress, I can't read," the girl said plainly while looking at Hawke with her wide eyes. Fenris' insides were suddenly filled with chilling ice and he was unable to breathe.

Understanding slowly dawned in Hawke's eyes and she gave the girl a comforting smile. "That's quite alright, Orana. Just make your way to Hightown and ask for guard-captain Aveline if you cannot find your way. Tell her I sent you and ask her to take you to my house."

"Oh thank you Mistress, thank you so much!" The girl exclaimed wholeheartedly as she gripped the useless piece of paper in her hands and rushed out of the tunnel, making her way toward the exit. Fenris watched her disappear before he turned back to look at Hawke, anger and fear wrestling inside. Did she know now? Did she know now why he had treated her gift with such disdain?

"I didn't know you kept slaves, Hawke," he said stiffly, his eyes narrowing as he looked at the kneeling mage.

Marian's face remained calm as she stood up and faced Fenris. "I gave her a job, Fenris," she replied as she raised an eyebrow. "Is that alright with you?"

"Ah," he said, suddenly thrown off track by her words. Was this another game? Another trick Hawke was trying to play on him? He wanted to believe it, but his common sense wouldn't let him. "Thank you," he managed to add awkwardly before he continued to advance through the tunnel. "We should move on. I am eager to finish this."

The others followed him without a word, their weapons drawn for whatever monstrosities Hadriana's blood magic had prepared ahead of them. It did not take long for them to get surrounded by enormous, blood-thirsty abominations at every step, their small group pressed together as they wrestled furiously with Hadriana's pawns, slowly continuing their advance to the inner sanctum of the caves. As Fenris struggled with the demons the magister's apprentice was throwing in their path, he felt his battle rage return to him. The eagerness to kill the woman who was responsible for all this slaughter came back even stronger than before, now joining with the desire to avenge Orana's family and his own dead and mangled kin. Had his own family perished the same way when Danarius had taken him into his own household?

"You cannot run from me forever, Hadriana!" He shouted furiously as he turned a corner and there suddenly she was, one of the demons from his past, standing in the middle of the room with her staff displayed boldly beside her.

Her long dark hair fell across her shoulders and she smiled at him. "I have been waiting for you, little wolf," she said in her high, dulcet tones and laughed. It was the same mocking, demeaning noise that had always driven him insane with anger, but he had never been able to extinguish it from her lips until now. All his thoughts were focused on this one moment, this one opportunity he had to take something precious away from his master, something that he cherished above all other things – the talent of magic and a willing apprentice.

"Not as long as I have been waiting for you, _Hadriana_," he snarled her name and rushed forward with his sword held high, his eyes blazing with the blue light of his curse. His path was instantly blocked with the sudden appearance of abominations that sprung forth from the ground, growling and moving to attack him with their twisted, monstrous hands. But his friends – is that what they were? - were not far from his reach and he watched as Hawke's magic burned through their demonic flesh, freeing his path once more. He ran toward the magistrate with a howl, lifting his sword to deal a deadly blow when she smiled at him and vanished before his eyes, only to appear behind him with another mocking laugh. He felt the force of her magic as she sent him crashing into a wall, knocking the air out of him as he fell to the ground.

Growling furiously he scrambled back up and rushed to her again, knowing that she would not be able to elude him forever. But the room was once again filled with Hadriana's demonic servants that blocked his every step, her laughter filling his ears. He cried out as a rage demon swiped at his arm and ducked the blow of another abomination, but then Isabela was suddenly at his side, blocking and parrying as she used her daggers with deadly efficiency, her lips twisted in a mad grin as she gave herself up to the fury of the battle. Varric's arrows found their targets around him and suddenly Fenris glimpsed Hadriana again on the other side of the room, engaged in a furious duel with Hawke, their staves clashing against each other with a terrible noise, fire and electricity spewing from their tips. He hesitated no longer as he moved to strike at Hadriana's unprotected back, hitting her over the head with the hilt of his sword. Danarius' apprentice fell to the ground and as Fenris raised his sword to strike the final blow, her hand shot out in fear.

"Fenris wait, please," she whispered fervently as she looked up at the former slave. "I can help you. I can tell you something you want to know."

He laughed in her face, his sword still held high above him. "The location of Danarius?" He said with a sneer. "What good will that do me? I'd rather have him lose his pet pupil," he spat and grinned viciously, relishing the fear he saw in her face.

"No, this is something else," Hadriana said quickly, her eyes darting from the sword back to the elf. "Something you would want to know. I will tell you, if you give me your word, your promise to spare my life."

His eyes flashed at her words and he lowered his weapon slowly, appearing to consider her proposal. He exchanged a look with Hawke, who towered above the magister's body with her staff in her hand. "It's your call Fenris," the mage said quietly, her own opinion written clearly on her face.

He looked down at Hadriana with utter hatred, knowing that he was going to kill her no matter what she told him. But did he dare to play her game without knowing the consequences? He realised that he wanted to know what she had to say, against his better judgment. He clenched his teeth as he knelt down beside her. "You have my word," he said lowly to her face and then got back up, waiting for her to speak.

Hadriana looked at him with smile, the fear in her eyes subsiding as she got up slightly and rested her back against a wall, her staff still close at hand. Fenris was suddenly reminded of a snake, poised and curled up protectively after getting struck, waiting for an opportune moment to bare its fangs. "You have a sister," Danarius' apprentice proclaimed and spat some blood on the floor, her fingers moving to the back of her scalp, touching the spot where Fenris had hit her. Her eyes never left his face as she watched what effect the news would have on him.

Fenris stared at her in disbelief. "A sister?" He repeated with a snort while his heart was scrambling, making its way up his throat. "Why should I believe you?"

"Because I'm telling the truth," Hadriana leered with satisfaction, her confidence growing with every passing moment. "She's a servant in a magister's household, back in Tevinter. You heard me right," she said with a grin when she saw the look on his face. "She's a servant, not a slave. If you'd like, I could take you to her and you could have a nice family reunion. Would you like that, Fenris?"

"The only thing I'd like is to see Danarius' face when he finds out that I slaughtered you like a pig," Fenris snarled, finally allowing his temper to come to the surface. Without warning he lunged toward Hadriana, his skin glowing fiercely as he shoved his hand deep into her chest and crushed her heart with a practised turn of his wrist. He stepped away from her body in mute anger, his right arm covered in her blood. The walls were closing in around him. "We should leave," he said and reached for the door that led out of the room, his fingertips pulling at the handle and covering it with blood.

Hawke's hand on his shoulder made him freeze. "Are you alright?" She asked him, her voice quiet and uncertain.

He shook her hand off him as anger seethed in his veins. "No Hawke, I'm not _alright_," he said bitterly and looked away. "But I don't care about how I feel. All that matters to me is that I finally got to crush this bitch's heart in my hands before she could twist my mind some more with her taunting games. That's something you mages enjoy to do, isn't it? Play your little games?" He sneered and punched the wall in his rage, allowing his hatred to swallow him whole. The pain soared through his hand and descended upon him like a red mist, blocking everything else out as he finally found the outlet for his fury in Hawke's concerned face.

"You flaunt your powers to the world and toy with the feeble minds of mortals who can't match your strength," he went on, his voice growing louder and filling with malice. "And then you make us believe that you care, but all you really care about is power and how to acquire it, over magic and over people," he continued, oblivious to everything but his hatred that gushed forth in a stream of deadly words. "I wish I had never allowed the bitch speak her mind. I should have killed her right where she stood before she opened her filthy mouth to spew out her lies. This could all simply be another trap that Danarius has laid out for me, and even if it isn't, even if I do have a sister, I know that I will never be able to find her alive. If Hadriana knows about her then so does Danarius, and she will never be free from his control as long as the bastard lives," he spat and turned around to face Hawke with abhorrence, his markings flaring dangerously. "I am tired of your games, apostate, and I am tired of the hold you have over me," he spoke, his words filled with venom, his eyes watching her with mistrust. "I wish I had never hired you for that job, never agreed to work for you. You have brought nothing to my life but grief." He looked at her with his cold green eyes, the pain he felt inside transforming his words to arrows that found their mark. "What has magic touched that it doesn't spoil, Hawke?"

The hurt he saw in her eyes did not matter to him as he turned and walked away, the demons in his mind screaming in unison for revenge and blood, revenge and blood, revenge and blood.

_Late at night, in Hightown_

_Drip, drip, drip,_ the water said as it flowed down the drain, creating small silvery streams in the darkness. _Drip, drip, drip,_ it said as it fell down the sky, raining down upon the just and unjust alike. It crashed down on the roofs of the thatched, miserable huts in the Undercity and fell upon the tiled mansions in Hightown, covering its winding cobbled streets in slippery mud and punishing the the citizens who tried to escape it, sending them running for cover – all except one, at least. Fenris closed his eyes as he allowed the rain to wash over him, the water stripping the blood from his armour and the dirt from his face as it continued to fall down the dark, moonless sky. The rain nursed the dull ache in his hand where he had slammed it against the wall, but it could not wash away the sickness that tortured his soul or fill the void in the depths of his heart. Those pains he continued to endure as he walked through the rain, only another shadow in the night.

He walked slowly like a man going to his own execution. Darkness was surrounding him like a thick blanket while the rain continued to mercilessly attack his skin, but he seemed to pay this no heed. His mind was elsewhere as he made his way to his destination, his head echoing with terrible words that had come from his mouth, full of venom and spite. He had been wandering for hours without knowing where he was headed, reluctant to return to Danarius' mansion for fear of the loneliness that awaited him inside the dark and empty house. Eventually his feet led him to where he wanted to go. He stopped before the gate of Hawke's mansion, looking up at the elaborate crest that decorated the front door. It was late at night and he knew that he would not be welcome here, but he could not go home. The memory of Hawke's hurt face haunted him wherever he went.

He stepped into the archway, shielding himself from the rain for the first time tonight. A sigh escaped his lips as he knocked sharply on the door and waited. He heard footsteps approaching the door after some time, and when it finally opened he saw a familiar dwarven face staring up at him.

"Messere... Fenris?" The dwarf exclaimed with suspicion, raising the gasoline lamp he was holding in his hands to get a better look at this sudden visitor. "What a surprise to see you here messere, especially at this late hour, and the weather is so awful out there.. Is everything alright?"

"Hello Bodahn," the elf said and gave him a small smile to hide his current state of mind. He remembered the dwarf from the expedition into the Deep Roads. He and his son Sandal had been lucky enough to escape the tunnels in one piece, though how they managed to survive on their own was anybody's guess, especially when Sandal had taken a side-trip into a darkspawn-infested tunnel. "I'm sorry for disturbing you at this hour, but I was wondering if I could speak to Hawke," he said, the rain pelting down his back as the wind seemed to pick up speed. "It's a matter of some urgency," he added. At least that part was true; he could barely hear himself think.

"Why.. yes, I suppose," Bodahn said as he opened the door and let the elf inside the dark hallway. The dwarf motioned him to sit on the bench that was placed next to the entrance, which Fenris did without hesitation. "If you would be so kind and wait here, I will fetch messere Hawke as soon as I can," Bartrand told him as he moved into the reception room, lighting candles wherever he went.

He watched the dwarf until he finally climbed up the stairs to the second floor, disappearing out of sight. He looked around the hallway, taking in the expensive yet elegant furniture Hawke had used to decorate her new home. He had never visited her mansion before, and until now he had never had a reason to. He frowned as he looked down. Water was running down his armour with slow drips, already forming a shallow puddle on the intricate carpet beneath his feet. When he heard her footsteps coming down the stairs and saw her silhouetted frame enter the hallway, he clenched his teeth and looked down at his hands. He couldn't bear the thought of catching another glimpse of the hurt in her eyes, not now.

"I've been thinking about what happened with Hadriana," he started, his voice sounding hollow in his ears. He glanced at her for only a moment before looking back down. "You and I...," he said and sighed, giving a weak shrug with his shoulders. "Well, we don't always see eye to eye. But that doesn't mean that you deserved.. what I said in there," he said and took a deep breath before continuing. "I said some horrible things to you. Things I wish I hadn't said, things I wish I could take back. But I can't," he said, the ache in his chest making him close his eyes for a moment. "So I've come to ask for your forgiveness," he finally finished as he opened his eyes again, staring down at his open palms.

Hawke crossed her arms as she leaned against the frame of the hallway, looking down at the former slave with bright gleaming eyes that offered no warmth. Not tonight. "Things you wish you hadn't said," she repeated softly, her gaze boring into his skull. "But you still meant every word you said, didn't you?"

His silence was her answer, and it was enough. "There's no need to ask for my forgiveness if you were simply telling the truth, Fenris," she said, her voice strangely choked. The faint candlelight illuminated her face, casting dark shadows around her eyes. "You don't need to put up an appearance just for my sake. If you hate all mages as much as you claim, why pretend to be upset over hurting my feelings?" She laughed bitterly. "Don't feel guilty over what you've said, Fenris. I'm a big girl, I can deal with it."

"Hawke," he said as he quickly stood up and faced her, against his better judgment. Her eyes were gleaming with icy coldness in the dark, and yet he could see that she had been crying. He remembered another night where tears had fallen down her face and he had been there to comfort her. Had it really happened? Or was it all only the foolish dream of an escaped slave? "Listen to me," he insisted, trying to find the words to explain her. "When I was a slave in Tevinter, Hadriana was a plague on my life. She haunted my dreams and my every footstep, hurting me in ways you cannot begin to imagine," he said, looking at her face, searching for some sign of understanding. "Seeing her after all this time brought it all back to me thousandfold, and.. oh, I don't know Hawke," he sighed and ran his fingers through his wet hair in frustration. "I just wish I could take it all back," he said simply and looked at her, realising how fruitless his words were.

She shifted slightly where she stood, keeping her arms crossed. "What about your sister?" She asked doubtfully. "Were you thinking about her when you killed the only person who could lead you to her?"

"Don't be naïve, Hawke," Fenris snapped. "Hadriana was a lying, deceiving snake who would have betrayed us the first chance she got. I don't know if she told me truth, but I know that she deserved to die. I do not regret killing her," he said grimly as he looked into her eyes. _I only regret hurting you_, he wanted to say, but the words did not come.

Hawke sighed and slowly shook her head as she looked away. "Oh Fenris," she whispered sadly. "You may be free of your chains, but you are still a slave."

Her words cut him deeper than he could have imagined, his pain and hurt coming to the surface as he raged at the sadness in her voice and the truth he did not wish to face. "What do you know about being a slave?" He cried out as he gripped her shoulders, looking into her eyes. "What do you know about spending your life doing someone else's bidding, enduring their torture and disdain, killing your own kin at the behest of their orders.." his voice trailed off and cracked as he let her go and turned away. He could no longer endure this. "This is not why I came here," he said as he shook his head, wondering how the conversation could have gone so wrong, so awfully wrong.

He heard her breathing behind him. "You don't have to go," she said quietly. He heard the forgiveness he had been looking for in her voice and it filled him with more regret than he thought he could possibly withstand.

"I think it would be best for both of us if I did," he said before he fled from Hawke's mansion, escaping back into the dark and stormy night.


	13. Chapter 13

**Author's Note:** Sooo.. big chapter this one, with a lot going on, and that's why it's the longest one so far. I've read so many wonderful takes on the Hawke/Fenris lovescene, but I think that mine is quite different. This is the way I've imagined it happening anyhow. :) I hope you'll like it!

**Disclaimer:** Fenris, Hawke and all other characters in this story are owned by Bioware. I'm just here to play with them.

**Wolf Unchained, Chapter 13**

"That wasn't bad at all Fenris," Isabela purred as she gathered the coins on the table and stacked them in neat piles, her eyes shining as always when treasure was involved. Her pile of coins was infinitely larger than those of the people sitting next to her. "I swear you must be getting better. Keep playing like that and I'll actually have to start watching my back soon."

"I'm not getting better," Fenris replied stiffly as he poured another drink for himself and everyone else around the table. Varric grunted in appreciation as the elf's bottle reached his cup. "You're simply cheating less these days."

"Touché!" The pirate laughed and threw back her hair in a tantalizing manner, her eyes as always fixed on Fenris. "You see, I thought to myself one day.. why cheat when my opponents are so formidable? I'd rather defeat them fair and square – the satisfaction then is so much greater," she drawled lowly and smiled at him. "And besides, I've always enjoyed a challenge."

"Really?" Fenris chuckled as he delved into his cup again. "I've always enjoyed ripping men's hearts out and feeding them to the dogs, but it's never been much of a challenge for me I'm afraid." He finished his cup in an instant and threw the dregs of the drink into the fire, making it roar for a moment with a sudden fierceness. The room was poorly lit otherwise, with only a candle casting a small light in the middle of the gambling table. The rest was covered in thickening shadows as the night continued its course.

Varric started coughing at the elf's words, his drink getting caught in his throat. "Don't we all know it," he gasped as he caught his breath. The dwarf then laughed out loud and shook his head. "I never thought that watching you do that little trick of yours would be a common occurrence for me, but I barely flinch at that sight these days. I don't know what's more frightening – the fact that you do it with such ease or the fact that I don't care about it anymore."

"I think it's brilliant," Isabella grinned while gathering the cards on the table and beginning to shuffle them for another round. She flicked another look in Fenris' direction, but the elf ignored it completely. "It's so wild, so barbaric.. and _merciless_," she purred.

"Fenris is no barbarian," the man sitting on Isabela's right suddenly spoke up in a thick northern accent. He had light brown hair and piercing blue eyes that seemed to gaze into one's soul when he fixed them on someone. "He's simply a misguided soul who is trying to find his way back to the Maker's side," he continued with a small smile as he toyed with the empty, dry cup in his hands. He was the only one to decline Fenris' bottle as it got passed around.

"Spoken like a true Choir Boy," Varric grinned as he accepted the cards Isabela was dealing out and picked them up one by one. "Will you ever stop analysing all of us, Sebastian? I would have thought that trying to figure out Merril would have given you a migraine by now."

"Me?" The elven girl blinked with her large brown eyes as she looked at the faces around the table. "But why on earth would anyone want to waste their time with me, Varric?"

"Probably because you're a psychopathic blood mage determined to summon forth demons out of that cursed mirror of yours despite any possible consequences it might have to yourself and those around you?" Fenris answered coolly instead as he glanced at the cards in his hands. He considered his choices and picked out a small set of coins, throwing them on the table. "Raise."

The girl's face had darkened at his words and she blinked again while she composed herself. The atmosphere around the table had somehow gotten more muted. "No one asked for your opinion, Fenris," she said sharply, her voice cutting like a knife. "Someone that holds so little regard for the history of his people couldn't possibly understand what I'm trying to do."

Fenris' cheeks twitched as he tensed his muscles. "I would pity you, witch," he said as he stared at something in front of him, avoiding the elven girl's gaze. "But you are too dangerous to deserve such kindness. You are a menace, no different to the abomination who still lurks in his healing centre in Lowtown. The fact that you are ignorant of your own vulnerability only makes it worse."

"Fenris is right," the man called Sebastian spoke across the table, his voice low but serious. "She is a danger to us all. It is our obligation as citizens of this city to do the right thing and turn her in."

"Wait, hold on," Merril said with a yelp as she looked from Fenris back to Sebastian. "Are you talking about _me_?"

"If you want to turn her over to the Templars, you're going to have to go through Hawke," Fenris said mutedly while staring at his cards. "If you'd like to do that be my guest, but I'm not getting involved."

"Wise choice," Varric muttered while throwing some coin on the table as well. "I'm sure we'd all like Hawke to keep her temper, especially where Templars are concerned. The phrase "crispy critters" somehow comes to mind all of a sudden, wouldn't you say so Rivaini?" He glanced at the pirate, but Isabela's attention was still turned to Fenris.

"How is it that you are so unwilling to get involved, Fenris?" She asked teasingly while a small smile danced across her lips. A flash of amusement in her eyes made the elf suspect that she already knew the answer to that question. "You and Hawke haven't spoken again for weeks, and the tension in the air whenever the two of you meet is.. ohh.. _palpable_," she said with a grin while beginning to fan herself with her hand full of cards.

"That's quite enough," Fenris growled quietly as he fixed his gaze on Isabela. "Are we here to play cards or what? Here I was, thinking that you had come all this way to Hightown to beat me and steal all my hard-earned coin instead of asking these inane questions."

At that Isabela flashed the elf another feral grin. "Touché! Again," she smirked. "When I'm done with you, you will have nothing left but your armour.. and not even that, if I can help it," she laughed softly and returned to her cards. The atmosphere in the room got lighter once more and everyone returned to their game of Diamondback, laughter and mild banter flowing between the players while they traded cards and threw coin on the table.

The embers had turned to nothing more than hot coals by the time Fenris' last guest, which turned out to be Sebastian, left his mansion. Fenris now turned his eyes to the dying fire while he contemplated the strange circumstances that had brought him and Sebastian together. They had met each other through Hawke after the mage had avenged Sebastian's murdered family by hunting down and killing those who had been responsible for the foul deed. His family had been the rulers Starkhaven, and now Sebastian considered returning to the city to retake his family's lands. Yet he was also a man of faith and had already sworn his oath to the Chantry before the gruesome fate had struck his family. Fenris had no particular interest in the man and his plight at first, but as weeks had gone by the two of them seemed to have developed a strange bond of understanding between each other. The elf was puzzled by Sebastian's overwhelming conviction regarding the Maker's healing power, yet he also felt intrigued and fascinated by the strength of his faith.

_It must be good to believe in something,_ he thought while grabbing a poker and gently shuffling through the hot coals of the fireplace, sparks shooting out of the seemingly dormant fire. Perhaps believing in something, even if it turned out to be wrong, was better than the alternative of utter loneliness and isolation that he faced.

He leaned back into the arm chair, picking up another bottle from the table and bringing it to his mouth. He had already made his way through several bottles of his master's finest wine during the course of the gambling session, but he was not done yet - not tonight. Although he had not drunk any wine since Hawke's last visit to the mansion, tonight his indulgence felt justified. He looked down at the table, his fingers slowly drifting over the scattered cards and bronze coins that covered it. Tonight Isabela had lost for the first time since he had joined their gambling party, and the pirate captain had not handled her loss well. He laughed quietly as he remembered the drunken state she had been in by the time she had left the mansion, and he hoped that with Varric's help she would be able to return to the Hanged Man without tripping up somewhere and breaking her neck along the way. He was mildly amused by Isabela's never-ending attempts to seduce him, and although he couldn't bring himself to return her advances he had still grown to appreciate her company. If things had been different, perhaps.. But they weren't.

"Penny for your thoughts," Hawke's voice reached his ears. When he looked up there she was, leaning against the door in her usual sauntering way, her eyes sparkling at him. Why should he feel surprised over her presence here? She had always managed to startle him with her sudden appearance, despite his many years of training and his honed survival instincts. Maybe she did it with magic, but Fenris suspected that she simply had a talent for taking him unawares.

The mage smiled as she looked around the room. "Looks like I missed one hell of a Diamondback session," she said with a small laugh as she saw the array of bottles on the table and the scattered chairs that were thrown across the room. "Although I'm surprised that some of your furniture has still managed to survive your.. uhh.. purge. I half-expected to come in here and find you sitting on the floor." She looked at him and eyed the bottle in his hands. "Still celebrating, I see?"

The alcohol swerved through his veins and he smiled at her while raising his bottle in a toast. "Last bottle of the Aggregio," he said after taking another gulp from it. It was soothing and tasted of summer and happier times. He motioned her to sit in the chair opposite him, ignoring the voices of warning in his head. He could hardly hear them tonight as they were dulled by all the wine he had consumed, and strangely he did not mind it at all.

"What's the occasion?" She asked as she walked slowly across the room and took a seat in the designated chair. She was wearing a midnight blue robe tonight that almost would have allowed her to merge with the dark shadows of the room if it weren't for the paleness of her face. Her hair was pulled back today and her brilliant bluegray eyes looked at him with warmth that almost made him choke on his drink.

"The anniversary of my escape," he grinned at his own words as he threw his caution to the wind. "_Hastio vala fermundis_," he said, the forgotten words of Tevinter running across his lips without hesitation. The old greeting seemed oddly appropriate in this situation. "Care to hear the story?"

Hawke raised an eyebrow. "You've never spoken about your past to anyone," she pointed out, her voice more serious now. "Why do it now?"

"Why not? Tonight seems like the right time to talk about my dark and sordid past," Fenris replied casually as he continued to drink his wine, the bells of warning nothing but a distant memory now. "Let's see..," he said as he stared into the dying fire, its light diminishing before his eyes. "You've heard of Seheron, right? The Imperium and the Qunari have fought over the island for centuries, though the Qunari are holding it with ease. I suspect the magisters are less than pleased about that," he said with a satisfied grin.

"I've heard about Seheron, sure," Hawke said with a nod as she continued to watch him carefully. "Have you been there?"

"Indeed I have." He looked down at the bottle in his hands and took a deep breath before continuing. "I was there with Danarius during an attack. You can only imagine what it was like – chaos and people dying in the streets as the city was set on fire. I managed to get him to a ship, but there was no room on-board for a slave." He sneered at his last words, his eyes unseeing. He was now trapped in the memories of his past, the words were pouring out of his mouth without his control. "I was left behind," he said hollowly, remembering. "I barely got out of the city alive."

"Where did you go?" Hawke whispered softly.

"Nowhere," he replied with a bitter laugh. "And I was headed there fast. I wandered for days through the Seheron jungle without knowing where I was, when a warrior tribe called Fog Warriors found me. I was in a terrible state – weak, delusional, dying from my wounds. They took me in and nursed me back to health. I stayed with them for a time, until Danarius finally came for me. I should have known that it would happen sooner or later, yet a part of me had hoped, against hope.." His voice drifted away and he closed his eyes. For a while there was nothing but silence between them until he spoke again. "I'd.. grown fond of the rebels. They bowed to no master and fought for their freedom, and I.. Until I met them I never knew that was even possible. To be free, independent, to live a life according to your own wishes and desires.. It was.. beyond my experience."

Her eyes watched him as his grip tightened on the bottle and he brought it closer to his face, staring at his own distorted reflection. "When Danarius came, they refused to let him take me." He took another gulp of wine before continuing on, the dullness of his voice masking the pain he suddenly felt flaring up inside. "He ordered me to kill them, so I did. I.. killed them all." He paused only for a moment before continuing. "It felt inevitable. My master had returned and this.. this fantasy life was over. But once it was done.." He sighed and leaned forward, shaking his head wearily as he rested his elbows against his knees. "I looked down at their bodies.. I felt.. I couldn't..," his voice shook and he closed his eyes, unable to finish his words, unable to explain the terror he had felt inside at the sight of those dead bodies. At the sight of his own terrible deed. "I ran," he continued after a while, leaning back in his chair and slowly wiping off the emotions that had taken control of him until his voice sounded dull and casual again. "And I never looked back. I stowed aboard a ship headed for the mainland and moved south, chased by my former master every step of the way."

Hawke's voice trembled slightly as she spoke up, shaken by the story she had just heard. "Why didn't you try to escape earlier, Fenris? Why did you stay with this.. this man for so long?"

He shrugged at her question, his gaze returning to the dormant fireplace. "You have not been a slave, Hawke. You do not understand. A slave does not dream of freedom, or wonder at possibilities. You think only of your master's desires and what the next hour will bring. It did not occur to me that I could be anything else until I had a taste of it."

Silence followed his words once more as Hawke seemed to be thinking them over in her head. He looked away from her and raised the bottle to his lips for a final time. As the last trickle of wine ran down his throat, he threw the bottle carelessly on the table, watching it bounce off the surface. His feast had finally ended.

"Did Danarius ever teach you to read, Fenris?" Hawke suddenly asked, her voice soft and gentle.

Even the alcohol in his blood could not dull the fear he felt at her words. But there was no more reason to hide himself from this woman, and there was nowhere else to go. Hadn't he already told her about his greatest regret? "No," he replied quietly and met her eyes with a shadow of his defiance. "He didn't."

She did not appear to be surprised. Marian nodded and gave him a small smile. "In that case, I hope you will be prepared for your first lesson tomorrow," she said cheerfully as she got up from her chair. "I've been helping Orana with her reading and writing, and she's been most grateful for my assistance. We've made some great notes together that I think might help you. You can pick them up at my house after breakfast." She turned around, preparing to leave. "I hope you'll be as meticulous with your studies as you are with cleaning that sword of yours, because otherwise I'll-"

"Hawke." He gripped the hem of her robe with his fingers, making her stop in her tracks. "I've never told about this to anyone," he said quietly and swallowed a knot in his throat. "I've never wanted to. I don't really know why I'm speaking about this to you, but.. Perhaps this is what it's like to have... a friend." The longing in his heart urged him on to truly speak his mind, but even the wine could not loosen his tongue enough to confess how he truly felt.

She turned around to face him and put her hands over his clasping fingers. Her touch was light and gentle, and it soothed his worried mind. "You mean more to me than that, Fenris," she whispered softly as she brought a hand up to his face, running her fingers through his silver-speckled hair. "And I might be a fool to say it, knowing how you feel about... my kind, but I'm past the point of caring about that," she smiled and shrugged her shoulders. "And I don't think you hate me. Not really."

Her words made a shiver run down his spine. "The other night, at your mansion.." he began in a faltering voice, but her fingers were on his lips, silencing him.

"It doesn't matter, not anymore," she said as she looked down at him, stroking his hair once more. Her voice was warm and full of affection and he relished the feel of her fingers in his hair. Fenris wondered once more if he had strayed in a dream. "Just make sure you get some rest now, alright?" She leaned down to plant a small kiss on his forehead before she turned around and left the room. The kiss still burned on his skin after her footsteps had receded and she had exited the mansion.

He stared into the dying embers and as the heavy burden of his guilt slowly slipped off his shoulders, he suddenly felt more tired than ever before in his life.

_The following day..._

Morning came and went and Fenris remained in his mansion. Terrified by the sudden outburst of honesty his indulgence of wine had brought out in him the previous night, he scarcely dared to think what Hawke would think of him now. He realised that on some level he had been longing to tell someone the horrific story of his escape from Danarius for quite some time, but he had never imagined that he would dare to tell the tale to anyone. Last night he had let down his guard completely, revealing the deepest and darkest secrets of his soul, and to whom? An apostate, a mage who had the power to corrupt and taint him, to bewitch him with her spells, to control his every move, his every thought.

And yet.. Hawke had done none of those things. He knew that he had told his story to her of his own free will, however encouraged he had been due to his intoxication. She had listened to him patiently without any scorn, and now she also knew that he was an illiterate – something she probably had suspected since their encounter with the slave girl, Orana. The very thought of revealing this terrible fact had shamed him, but she had not laughed or mocked him for his weakness. Instead, she had offered her help to teach him how to read and write. Hawke had seen and heard his worst crimes, and yet she was still here, giving him her support. And she had said.. she had said that she thought of him as more than a friend. What was he supposed to make of that? How was that supposed to make him feel, after everything he had said to her? After everything he had done to push her away? How was this possible?

He ceased his furious pacing in front of the dead fireplace when a small object on the mantelpiece suddenly caught his eye. He reached out and touched the prayer beads with his fingertips, their small surface covered with a fine layer of dust. He had not touched them in years - in fact he had actually forgotten that they were there. As he wiped the dust of the small portrait of Andraste, the longing he had felt when he first touched the beads suddenly gripped him with such terrible force that he heard himself cry out, his body folding in on him as he fell to his knees, the prayer beads clasped in his hands. Hurt and longing tugged furiously at his heart and the demons of his mind fought for his soul as he lay there, for how long he did not know. Dusk had fallen across the city by the time he got up and began making his way downstairs. By then his heart ached no more.

He found the street, and he found the house. His feet led him where he wanted to be, where he had wanted to be all along. He burst in through the door unannounced, giving Orana only the briefest of glances where she stood in the corner. "Tell Hawke we need to talk," he told her abruptly, the tone of his voice sending her running faster than he had thought she could. He looked around and noticed that the house seemed to be empty of all other servants this evening. That was good. He paced back and forth in the hallway as he waited, cursing himself for being so polite. He simply should have stormed through the entire house, searching for the mage until he found her. When he finally saw her coming down the stairs, thankfully alone, his patience reached its limits. His heart pounded furiously in his chest as he approached her with long quick strides, his hand gripping her waist as he pulled her close.

"I've been thinking about you," he said quietly as he gazed into those eyes that had captured and mesmerized him from the very start. "In fact, I've been able to think of little else," he continued, his voice trembling with desire that he could no longer hide. "Command me to go, and I shall." He wondered briefly what incredible force of will he would have to muster to heed those words, but Hawke gave him no more time to consider it. The thought vanished from his mind as he felt her fingers moving into his hair.

"No need," she replied with a smile as she pulled his face closer to hers and kissed him. When he felt her tongue pushing through his lips, Fenris lost all sense of control, giving himself into his passion with utter abandon. He growled into her mouth as his tongue greedily answered the caress, his desire for this incredible woman taking over his senses. He pushed her body against a nearby wall and pressed his armour against her lightly covered body, allowing her to feel how hard and tense he was. He roughly grasped her hands and held them against the wall while he explored her mouth with his tongue, tasting the sweetness of her lips and knowing that no wine had ever tasted so good. His gauntlets pressed against the flesh of her arms as he snaked a hand down her supple frame, parting her flimsy robe and finding that she was wearing nothing underneath it. He cupped one of her breasts in his hand and gave it a firm squeeze, the metal of his gauntlets undoubtedly feeling cold against her skin.

She moaned against his lips at his touch and surprised him as she suddenly overthrew him with a passionate growl. She moved to his side and pinned him against the wall instead, her body moulding into his as her hands began unclasping the buckles of his chestplate, her lips never leaving his. He marvelled at her dexterous fingers as the pieces of armour fell to the floor one by one, soon leaving him with only his trousers, his naked torso gleaming with a thin layer of sweat by the light of Hawke's roaring hot fireplace. He returned the favour by undoing her robe, the fabric falling lightly down to her feet. His eyes took in her naked body hungrily, his hands sliding down to squeeze her buttocks as he held her against him, letting her feel every inch of his throbbing, aching manhood. He dug his teeth firmly into her neck, making her cry out with desire as she closed her eyes and arched into his bite, her soft flesh feeling so incredibly smooth at his touch. Her hands explored his scarred chest with feverish desire, sliding lower and lower until they reached his trousers and tugged at them until they fell down to the floor along with the rest of his clothing.

She trembled against him then, her lips slightly parted as she breathed, her eyes so wide and full of emotion. "I want you, Fenris," she whispered against his skin, her hair falling down her back in a tangled mess. His fingers gripped a few locks of her hair as he gently pulled her head back and made her look at him. His green eyes met hers and they were full of love. "You have me, Hawke," he murmured before he stole a kiss from those soft, bruised lips. "You will always have me." He wrapped his arms around her and squeezed her tight as they leaned against the wall. He never thought it would feel so good to hold anyone so close. But her body was calling to him still, her soft flesh pressing against his in their embrace, and he moaned quietly into her shoulder, knowing that she could feel how painfully stiff he was. He felt her gasping against his skin and as she parted her legs against him, his desire took full control of his actions.

He picked her up in his arms and carried her to the rug that was sprawled out next to the fireplace, placing her there before he went down on his knees and began covering her entire body with soft, longing kisses. She moaned at his every touch, her body arching up to meet his lips, and when his tongue gently licked at the slick wetness between her thighs her moans turned into a sharp cry. She buried her fingers in his hair and pulled him up to her face, her tongue greedily meeting his in a kiss that told him exactly how much she needed him. He groaned with pleasure as her hands kept sliding through his hair, his body pressing firmly against hers while she wrapped her legs around his back and pulled him close, moaning and begging for him to fill her. He slid inside her with one smooth motion and gasped at the sensation of filling her so deeply and completely. His right hand slid down to her buttocks, squeezing it firmly as he began moving inside her with slow, deep and deliberate strokes. Her body shuddered with pleasure at his every move, her legs keeping him firmly in place as she arched up against him and bit her lips to prevent herself from crying out loud. The finger of his left hand found a nipple and he squeezed it roughly, making her gasp suddenly, her fingers now running down his back, leaving red and lingering marks on his skin.

His pace increased as he breathed heavily against her skin, his arms enveloping her body and holding her close as he moved his hips against hers, never wanting this moment to end but knowing that he wouldn't be able to hold the peak of his pleasure back much longer. He had never felt so whole before, never felt this complete and utter sense of belonging. He moved his fingers into her hair and whispered loving words against her skin, planting gentle kisses along the nape of her neck as he filled her with his length time and time again, his strokes getting firmer and harder as she moaned against his ear, willing him to follow her into a realm that was unknown and exciting to them both. His orgasm came to him like a wave, engulfing him completely, blocking out everything except for Hawke's own cries of pleasure. He heard himself cry out her name over and over again, his body shaking against hers as they held on to each other like fragile leaves in a gust of wind, his ecstasy wiping out every thought and emotion out of his mind, leaving him weak and breathless. When it ended he found himself unable to move, his body locked in Hawke's warm embrace in complete content. He rested in her arms as his eyes drifted shut, remaining deep inside her while her legs gently caressed his back and her fingers ran through his hair in light, soft motions.

They remained like that for some time, their bodies merged together as one, lit only by the light of the fire. When he finally stirred, he opened his eyes to see Hawke smiling up at him. "Hey you," she said softly and stroked his cheek. "I was afraid you had fallen asleep."

"Why afraid?" He mumbled as he planted a lazy kiss on her chest, finally withdrawing himself from inside her as he felt his strength slowly return to him.

She giggled as she brought her legs together. "Well, I don't know where you sleep in your mansion, but here in this house I do actually have a bedroom," she grinned as she rested on her elbows, the light of the fire accentuating the beautiful curves of her body. "And if we don't move upstairs soon I'm afraid Bodahn will have a heart attack when he comes to do the morning chores," she tittered like a young girl, her face shining with happiness.

Fenris smiled at this and got up. "Well we wouldn't want that, would we?" He extended a hand as he helped her get up, and once she was standing next to him he picked her up in his arms with complete ease. He looked at her smiling face as he held her, still unbelieving of the precious gift he had just been given. Was this a dream? If it was, it was a dream Fenris never wanted to wake up from. "Upstairs we go," he grinned at her and planted a quick kiss on her lips before he began moving toward the stairs. "You can point the way to the bedroom, my lady. I believe we still have some important business to conclude there.. on your bed. Or on the floor next to it, if you would prefer that again." He gave her thigh a pleasant squeeze as he felt another wave of desire surge through his body. Hawke laughed delightfully and pointed the way while he carried her up the stairs, her laughter ringing through the dark mansion as he opened the door to her bedroom and closed it behind him with a flick of his foot.


	14. Chapter 14

**Author's Note: **I haven't touched this fic in over a year, for various reasons. I lost my inspiration, and life put obstacles in my way when I tried to get it back. But even though it's been so long, I still keep receving favourites and reviews for this story, which amazes me. I don't think my fiction has ever been this appreciated. This story has been a very steep learning curve for me, and there are many things about the earlier chapters that I no longer like.. But I'm still glad I started this, and I would very much like to finish it. I hope you will keep on reading. :)

**Disclaimer:** Fenris, Hawke and all other characters in this story are owned by Bioware. I'm just here to play with them.

****Wolf Unchained, Chapter 14****

_Flash._

A young girl is playing in the back yard, her feet dirty and covered in mud. She's kneeling down in the ground while she's making mud-cakes, her fingers sinking into the soft and pliable dirt. She looks up at him with bright shining eyes, her mouth spread into a wide smile. "Do you want some as well, Lito?" She asks him and then suddenly throws the mud in his face, making him gasp in surprise. She laughs and runs away as he wipes the mud off and starts chasing her around the yard to the amusement of their mother and the excited barks of the village hounds.

_Flash._

His mother is crying, her large tears spilling down her face as she buries it in her hands. Her fragile shoulders are shaking in her despair and he is struck by a feeling of utter helplessness, frustrated with himself and the terrible world they live in, angered by the knowledge that he can't make a difference. "What are we going to do, my son?" She sobs and looks up at him, but it's obvious that she is not expecting an answer. He can't give her one.

_Flash._

He is in a large circular room filled with ominous blue light. He can feel the adrenaline flowing through his veins, his heart thumping loudly in his chest as he grasps the hilt of his sword and raises it to meet his opponent, another elf with a desperate look of determination in his face. He blocks out all notions of empathy for this fellow kinsman, knowing that he can't afford to show any weakness if he wants to win this tournament. And he wants to do it so badly. The face of his mother flashes before his eyes again while he raises the blade and he knows there is no turning back now. A battle cry erupts from his throat as he rushes forward into the jaws of death.

_Flash._

The chains encircle his body, pinning him to the wooden table. He looks around and sees nothing but hooded faces around him, their features hidden in the shadows. One of them raises a staff, carved out of gnarled wood and decorated with two red jewels. The wood seems to form an evil face, its jewels shining in the darkness like two red eyes, mocking and laughing at him. Then the staff starts glowing and he is filled with pain, more pain than he ever thought he could possibly experience, more pain than he can withstand, and he feels himself falling apart in the face of this new monster inside him. It is a live thing, this pain, and he can feel its terrible grasp taking him over, transforming him into something he can't understand, a weapon beyond his imagination. He lives and breathes the pain until he can no longer think or feel, or even hear his own screams. Finally when the darkness comes and oblivion descends upon him, he embraces it with gratitude.

_Flash._

"No more," he whimpered to the darkness. "No more, please. No more." But the darkness did not respond and he was left with no answers. When he opened his eyes again, he was only met with silence, and the gently crackling noise of a burning fire. He blinked and looked around, completely unaware for a moment of his surroundings. Then as he turned his head, he saw Hawke's lithe body curled up next to him as she lay on her side, her chest gently rising and falling in her sleep. He reached out and touched her hip gently with his fingertips, running them down along her silky smooth skin.

He watched her sleep while he traced her skin, trying to ignore the feeling of dread that slowly filled his stomach. His thoughts continued to return to his strange dreams and the peculiar way they had affected him. He looked down at his hands and frowned. The content of his dreams seemed to be quickly fading from his memory, leaving him with only a few images and sounds that appeared distant and meaningless in his mind. Had there been a face of an elven girl in his dreams, someone he recognised? A decision had been made in those dreams, a horrible and dreaded mistake that had forever changed someone's life. Could that be him? No, it was impossible._ And yet.. _He knew that these images had not simply been dreams. They were not some random figments of his untamed imagination. A strange thought suddenly filled his mind, coming out of nowhere like a sudden raincloud that obscured the light of the sun. Was it possible that these dreams had something to do with his past? Were they flashes of memories that were suddenly breaking through the strange barrier in his mind, filling the empty void of his life before his servitude? Is it possible that these dreams had just laid out his entire life before him like an open book in his sleep?

The notion filled Fenris with a feeling of complete and utter horror. The dreams were gone, and so were the memories they had brought along with them. It all had been there within his grasp, for a fleeting moment... and yet now it was all vanished, gone, as if it had never been there at all. The emptiness that filled him once more was twice as great as it had been before, and suddenly Fenris could not breathe.

Hawke stirred gently as he rose from the bed, his naked frame exposed by the light of the fire that always seemed to burn in her room – Orana's work no doubt. He looked over his shoulder, tensing as he watched her face, moving quietly to make sure she did not wake. She mumbled something quietly under her breath, bringing a hand up under her pillow as she cuddled into the blanket. After a few moments, he walked quietly over to the fire where his armour had been gathered in a pile and began donning each piece as quietly as he could.

He suddenly felt like a thief in this house, an uninvited guest who had outstayed his welcome… and who had somehow managed to sneak into the owner's bedroom and into her bed. The memories of what happened the previous night filled his pale cheeks with colour. He had never been with a woman before, as far as he could recall, and his unhinged expression of his desire for Hawke had surprised and baffled him. _As far as he could recall… _He glanced at Hawke once more. She was still sleeping peacefully, a satisfied smile playing on her bruised lips. His fingers dug into the mantelpiece of the fireplace as a mixture of emotions began their methodical dismemberment of his inner calm and determination. He could not ignore the connection between his dreams and what had happened here last night. The way he had lost control completely, the way he had opened himself up to her, the way he had become…

Unhinged.

Something had become unhinged in his mind, a wall had been removed for just a moment, just to allow him a glimpse of what was on the other side. His life, his past, all the things that he had been wondering about for Maker knows how many years – all of it had suddenly been there for his taking, for his understanding. And now it was gone, making him feel even emptier than before – because now he began to realise how much he had lost. His mind suddenly recalled Danarius' sneering face from the last time their paths had met on the shores of Saheron. He had been so self-assured in his knowledge that Fenris could never escape him, no matter how hard he tried, no matter how far away he ran. And wasn't he right? Fenris cursed lowly under his breath, staring grimly into the flames. Even now, even here in this very room, the Magister who had made his life a living hell was still haunting his every step. And Hawke…

Hawke had made him open up. She had somehow gotten past all his defences, all the carefully constructed obstacles and traps that he had placed in the path of anyone who would ever even dare to come close to him. If he had to be absolutely truthful with himself, then he had to admit that Hawke had trampled over his defences as if they had never actually existed, and he still had no idea how she had managed to do that. She was an apostate, a wielder of magic – someone he should have hated by instinct alone, but now he found that it no longer mattered to him. This honest admission to himself frightened him almost as much as the dreams he had just experienced. How could he no longer care about the fact that Hawke was a mage? How could he overlook the danger, how could he forget the monstrosities, the tortures of his past? How could he have fallen in love with someone who represented all the things had always feared, everything he had been running away from?

He did not understand himself, and fear overpowered reason. The dreams had been frightening, and the void they had left behind was even worse – and yet his fear of losing himself to the feelings that had led him to Hawke overshadowed everything else he felt by a thousand fold. He could no longer control himself around her, he knew that much. The joy of utter abandon the he had felt in Hawke's arms was now replaced by the dire consequences of his actions, and the glimpses of his past that could no longer recall were replaced with Danarius' laughing face in his mind. Fenris had never been so frightened before in his entire life. He knew what it was like to not have any control over himself – the magisters of Minrathous had seen to that often, and frequently. Yet none of their torture had affected him as strongly as this one night with Hawke. He did not know whether to laugh or cry and the maelstrom of emotions continue to rage in his heart. There was only one answer for it. He knew what he had to do, although he did not yet know where he would find the strength to do it. He had to detach himself from Hawke, from the one thing that could hurt him and make him remember the things he was not ready to remember. He had to get away, he had to run and figure this out somehow in his mind, he needed to find his strength and control again. Staying here, as vulnerable and weak as he currently was... This was something he could not even imagine doing. He couldn't allow Hawke seeing him like this. He was fully aware that the consequences of his actions would be dire. He knew that she would probably never forgive him for what he was about to do. And yet, he saw no other choice.

He glanced down at the floor, noticing the remnants of Hawke's robe that he had removed from her body so passionately only a few hours ago. A red ribbon caught his attention; he recognised it as the belt she had used to keep her robe together. He leaned down and picked it up, staring at it thoughtfully for a while before tying it solemnly around his wrist, his heart thudding dully in his chest as he did so. He looked at his wrist with blank eyes, observing the small memento that he would take away with him from this one night that he would never forget. His first and last night as… someone unhinged. Someone he could not afford to be.

After his decision had been made, all he had to do was wait. It was one thing to feel like a thief, it was another thing to sneak away in the dark like a complete and utter coward. Besides, he knew that he would have to be convincing and firm, and if he left while Hawke was sleeping then she would simply seek him out again and break his resolve. She had to understand that there could be no continuation to this... this madness.

"Fenris? Is everything alright?" Her sleepy voice suddenly reached his ears, making him turn around swiftly like a culprit caught in the act. Her worried look made him rethink his decision about being convincing, but now it was too late. He opened his mouth to say something, but the words would not leave his throat. He was choking on his own fear.

Hawke's eyes widened and she raised her eyebrows. "Come on Fenris, was it really that bad?" She said jokingly, yet she was unable to conceal her growing concern. She tried to smile at him, blushing in sudden modesty. "Surely last night… What happened downstairs… And then _upstairs._.."

"No, that's not what I-.. Hawke, it was fine," Fenris stammered, finding his voice again. Seeing the look on her face at his pitiful words he hastened to add, "No, that's insufficient." He looked around, feeling like a complete idiot, trying to find the words to express himself. How could he tell her? Knowing that what he was about to do would be the most difficult and cowardly thing he would ever do? And yet he knew that he had to do it. He could not lose himself, not like this. He inhaled sharply and continued. "Last night.. you.. it was.. it was better than anything I could have dreamed."

Marian's face was briefly lit by a sense of relief at his words, but his apparent agitation still seemed to concern her. "Is it something else then? Is it your markings? I thought maybe they would hurt when we…" She blushed again, and Fenris swore again under his breath. She was making this a lot harder than it should be. Why was she suddenly so quiet, so happy? Why couldn't she start yelling at him, get mad and start throwing fireballs? He thought he would rather prefer that.

"It's not that at all," he shook his head and started pacing back and forth in front of the fireplace. He couldn't tell her that she was the only person who had ever touched him without causing him pain. If he said that he might never leave and he knew he had to. His desire to escape was becoming palpable.

He considered how much he was willing to tell her before answering. "I began to remember things," he said while looking into the flames of the fireplace again. "From my life before. Just flashes of images, things that might have been important to me, once..." He ran his fingers through his hair in exasperation and turned around to face her. "Hawke, this is too much for me," the words ran over his lips quickly before he could swallow them again. "I can't do this… this thing, whatever it is. It's too much."

He watched how she took in his words, shaking her head in disbelief at what she was hearing. "Your life before?," she whispered as if she was clinging to a straw, something that would help her get out of this. "What do you mean?"

"'I've never remembered anything from before the ritual that gave me these markings," Fenris replied, trying to be patient and finding it hard to do so. _He had to get out of here, away from this moment._ He closed his eyes. "There were faces.. words.. For just a moment I could recall all of it… and then it slipped away."

"Fenris, that's wonderful! You were remembering things!," she cried out as she slipped out of the covers, her long hair a wonderful tussle that he wanted to sink his hands into once more, her body just as tantalizing as it had been the night before, if not more. He took a few more steps back, keeping the distance between them. She stopped in her tracks as she noticed his movement, her face growing apprehensive. "I realise you must be upset over losing the memories so quickly," Hawke continued swiftly, her fervent gaze fixed upon him. "But surely.. With time, we could..," she added with hesitation before her voice faltered when she saw the look on his face.

"I don't think you've got the faintest idea of how upsetting that was Hawke," he said bitterly, the coldness in his voice cutting through the air like a knife. He could see her body tensing, knowing that his words had hurt her. "I've never had any memories of my life before I was a slave. These thoughts… they have haunted me for years. What was I like? What was my life like? Where are my parents, are they still alive? " He sighed and closed his eyes. "To see all my answers in front of my eyes, to have it all come back in a rush… and then to lose it just as quickly…" _To give in to my desire for you, to lose myself to yet another mage, to face the demons of my past… _"I can't do it Hawke. I just can't," he whispered, a note of finality and despair in his voice.

When he turned around, he could no longer bear to meet her gaze. He did not wish to know, did not wish to see the emotions that were contorting her face. "Fenris…," she whispered helplessly. "We can work through this. You know we can," she added with a hint of stubbornness still present.

He was suddenly reminded of another night they had spent together during very different circumstances, another night when Hawke had had the same note of sorrow in her voice, the same sense of mourning over something she was about to lose – the night she had lost Carver in the Deep Roads. He had been able to comfort her that time, even if it had felt wrong and inappropriate, even if he had regretted doing it, just like he regretted everything about this very moment. But this time he could not help her. He could not even help himself.

"I'm sorry," he said hollowly, speaking the words but no longer feeling them. "I feel like such a fool. This should never even happened in the first place." He turned to walk out of the room, hearing her sharp intake of breath at his last words, knowing that they had hurt her even more and not giving her time to respond. "Forgive me," he whispered as he left, retreating down the stairs of Hawke's mansion like a scoundrel and a coward.

He escaped into the Hightown night, running through its streets unseeing and unfeeling. Running away from the demons of his past once more, running away from Hawke and his desire for her, running away from his own frightful lack of control. He did not notice the tears that covered his vision, he did not notice the looks the townspeople were giving the tall, lanky elf who was running through the streets of Kirkwall like a man possessed. He simply kept on running, clutching the red ribbon at his wrist like a lifeline. Before this moment, he thought that nothing could be more difficult than living with himself after slaying his friends in Seheron. Now he knew that he was wrong. Leaving Hawke had been the most excruciating thing he had ever done, and somehow he would have to find a way to accept what he had done, to be able to look at himself in the mirror without smashing its cowardly, taunting reflection. Somehow he would have to do it. But not today.


	15. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer:** Fenris, Hawke and all other characters in this story are owned by Bioware. I'm just here to play with them.

******Wolf Unchained, Chapter 15******

The first thing he noticed about the Chantry was the thick smell of incense. It hit his nose sharply and almost made him sneeze. He squinted into the darkness of the large room before closing the heavy doors behind him, shutting out the noise of Hightown as he stepped inside. He had been here several times before, together with Hawke and her merry band of mercenaries, but they had never lingered for very long and he had not returned to this place on his own. He had not thought he would ever have a reason to.

The tall, hovering statues of the servants of Andraste surrounded him, holding great flaming lanterns above his head that swayed lightly in an invisible breeze. They seemed like guardians to Fenris, watching over him as he made his way through the grand, marble-floored hallway. He ignored the curious glances cast in his direction by the initiates of Faith, pretending not to hear their whispered conversations. As he reached the top of the stairs, he noticed that there were a handful of people sitting in the benches, meant for those who had come to pray. A woman, middle-aged and haggard, was on her knees, her face turned toward the large statue of Andraste that loomed above all of them. Her lips moved quickly in something that sounded like the Chant of Light to Fenris' ears, although he knew very little of it. He wondered what she was praying for.

A sense of wrongness and hesitation filled him. He should not be here. His prayers, such as they were, did not belong here. They would not be heard by this statue of a woman, or the Maker she was supposedly married to. And yet he found himself sitting down on a bench despite his own inner objections, as far away from the other visitors as he could manage. He had come without his broadsword today and it made him feel vulnerable. He always expected a slaver attack around the corner at any moment and being without a weapon was foolish. Most people would call that paranoia, but to Fenris it was just a case of being practical.

Silence and hushed whispers of prayer enveloped him in a cloak of peace and contemplation. He closed his eyes and listened to the swaying of the lanterns, sounds of quiet prayer and muffled footsteps around him. For the first time in what felt like an age, he felt himself beginning to relax – something he had been unable to do since he left Hawke's mansion on that dreadful night, now several days ago. He sighed and absent-mindedly rubbed the marble floor with his left foot as he finally allowed his thoughts to drift to Hawke. He had not allowed himself to think about her for too long, and his self-control was beginning to hurt him. How much longer could he keep wearing himself thin?

For the millionth time, Fenris wondered if he had made the right decision when he left Hawke. Going over the circumstances and his emotions in his head seemed to be getting him nowhere and every time he saw Hawke's face in his mind he was filled with a deep sense of sorrow and regret. He had been so frightened of everything that had happened so quickly – his memories coming back, his utter abandon with Hawke, the way his feelings for her were completely consuming him... It had made him more terrified than any blood magic he had ever seen. He had not dreamt of his past again since his night with Hawke, and it was quite possible that he never would again. His sleep had been a pitiful affair for the last couple of nights, with him tossing and turning on the cold floor of his Hightown mansion, never allowing himself the comfort of his bed. He wondered dully if Hawke hated him now after what he had done. Perhaps that was the best alternative after all.

He started to consider the possibility of abandoning his Kirkwall mansion and making a desperate attempt at storming Minrathous. Such a move would undoubtedly spell his death, but at the moment he preferred the idea of being tortured and killed by Tevinter Magisters than facing the possibility of looking into Hawke's eyes one more time.

His gloomy reverie was suddenly broken by a quiet and familiar voice. "Hello Fenris," Sebastian greeted the elf as he sat down on the bench next to him. "Fancy seeing you here."

"Fancy that indeed," Fenris mused as he turned his head to look at the Starkhaven Prince. He should have known that he would find him here. "So how long have you been observing me, Sebastian?"

"Just under half an hour," the Prince replied with a wry smile. "I almost expected you to walk over to me straight away, but you didn't seem to notice me. Lost in thought, my friend?"

Fenris shrugged. His obsessive thoughts must have worn him out even more than he realised, dulling his usually sharp senses. "I suppose you could say that," he nodded and leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees as he put his face in his hands.

Sebastian mimicked his movement and leaned forward as well, fixing his startling blue eyes on the statue of Andraste in front of them. "You know Fenris, I am a sworn Brother of the Chantry," he said after a prolonged moment of silence. "I am allowed to hear confessions."

The elf blinked. Confessions? He had never even considered the idea. How could he bear his soul to this stranger and allow himself the notion of forgiveness? There could be no forgiveness for the things he had done. _Surely even the Maker must draw a line somewhere_, he mused quietly.

"I don't think that would be such a good idea, Sebastian," he replied quietly. "Some sins are not meant to be forgiven."

"I see," the Prince said with a sigh. "You know, you might not believe me, but the same thought has often crossed my mind as well of late."

"Really?" Fenris raised his eyebrows.

"You forget that I ordered the execution of many souls who died at Hawke's hands – and yours - because I desired to avenge my family," Sebastian pointed out. "And I sought revenge by my own hand when I killed Lady Harimann and the demons she had been conspiring with to kill the ones I loved."

"That's different. Your cause was just," the elf replied with a shake of his head. "You sought revenge because something very dear was taken away from you. Surely your Maker will understand such a crime and give you the forgiveness you seek?"

"Will He?" Sebastian said hollowly as he glanced up at the altar where the Reverend Mother knelt, her face bowed down in prayer. "I'm not so sure of that myself. I've spent many sleepless nights wondering if taking my revenge has been the right decision. As Reverend Mother has already pointed out to me, it brought me no peace of mind. It has not eased my suffering, or my anger. And the families of those who died because I wished them dead... They must hate me now, as surely as I hated the Harimanns. Will the Maker forgive me for perpetuating such a vicious circle of hatred and death?"

Fenris thought about this for a moment and then chuckled. "And you were offering to hear _my _confession, Sebastian?"

The Prince laughed quietly and smiled, clearing his throat. "Indeed. Well, the offer still stands. I want you to know that I'm here, should you ever feel the need to talk."

Fenris was momentarily taken aback by this offer. Having locked himself away from Hawke, the one person who seemed to affect him so strongly, he had also given up on the idea of ever finding another human being that he could simply talk to. And yet here was Sebastian, offering him a hand of friendship so freely without expecting anything in return. The thought humbled him and made him feel unworthy of such a gesture of goodwill.

"Thank you," he said after a while.

Sebastian nodded quietly in response and smiled. The initiates of Faith walked by, lighting candles everywhere in their path.

"I might have a sister," Fenris suddenly spoke up after a moment of silence. "Living back in Minrathous, as a servant. I'm not sure if she actually exists, however, and enquiring further about it might lead me into a slaver trap that has been engineered by my former Master."

"I see," Sebastian mused. "That's quite a pickle. What do you think you're going to do about it?"

Fenris looked down at the floor and sighed, rubbing the floor thoughtfully with his bare foot once more. "I don't know," he said with a hint of frustration in his voice. "A part of me would like to find out if she's real and not just some figment of my imagination, or a clever Magister lie. But..," he closed his eyes. "I don't know, Sebastian. Perhaps I've been alone too long. Perhaps I'm afraid of... making the wrong decision."

Sebastian thought about his response for a while. "I will give you my opinion as a friend, not as a Brother," he finally said. "Family is important. More important than you could ever imagine. Take it from someone who knows what it's like to lose it," he added bitterly. "If your sister is real, and if she is out there somewhere – then you need to find her. And if she is not – well. You won't be walking into a slaver trap alone," he patted the bow that he had placed beside him. "Either way, at least you will know the truth."

Fenris looked at the man sitting beside him. "Did I say thank you before?"

"You did," Sebastian grinned.

"Then I guess I shouldn't repeat myself," the elf laughed and leaned back on the bench.

Together they watched the visitors come and go, observing how the Mothers executed their evening prayer, quietly enjoying each other's company without feeling the need to break it with unnecessary banter. Fenris thought about absolutely nothing and for once, that was alright with him. Hearing Sebastian talk about his own inner turmoil had made him realise that perhaps there were no simple and easy answers to the questions he was looking for. And maybe, just maybe, he would find the courage to find out if Hadriana's lies had any ring of truth to them after all. Perhaps he owed that much to his sister, if she was real. If she was out there somewhere, wondering about her brother...

He stood up after some time and stretched his lean frame, feeling quite stiff after sitting still for so long."So, Diamondback at The Hanged Man later?," he queried nonchalantly.

"You bet," Sebastian nodded and then smiled as he thought of something amusing. "Do you think Hawke's mabari is going to beat Anders again?"

"I certainly hope so. I won five sovereigns on their game last time," Fenris barked with quiet laughter. "Although I don't think our dear Abomination friend was too happy with the fact that I bet on a hound against him."

_Meanwhile, in Hawke's mansion..._

"Hawke! HAWKE! Get your cute little apostate butt down here, right now! Do you hear me?" Isabela shouted as she put her hands on either side of her mouth, amplifying her voice to make it carry across the great hall into the second floor bedroom. As silence followed her outburst, she sighed and glanced at Varric who was standing next to her. "She has to come out sometime, right?," she said hopefully as she looked at the dwarf.

"I wouldn't be so sure about that Rivaini," Varric shook his head. "She's been cooped up in there for days and I haven't had any luck getting her out so far. I even tried sneaking a pigeon through her bedroom window yesterday with a little note telling her that Anders had finally turned into a full-fledged Abomination and was walking around the streets of Darktown slaughtering everything in his path."

Isabela chuckled and raised her eyebrows. "That's a bit more truthful than usual coming from you Varric. What happened?"

"I think she set the pigeon on fire," he sighed.

"Perhaps you need to think bigger," she suggested.

"Would you rather I tried swinging a cat in there?"

"Might be more amusing, that's for sure. Oh Varric, what do you think she's doing in there? Wait, don't answer that, I've got an imagination and it is actually better than any tall tale you might spin for me," Isabela grinned as she paced impatiently around the large reception room, her sharpened daggers glinting from their holsters on her back. "I bet it's got something to do with Fenris. Do you think maybe he tried doing that magical fisting thing-"

"Rivaini, Maker's breath!" Varric exclaimed, howling with laughter.

"Whaaaat? Maybe she got really mad at him and kicked him out. Maybe _he's_ the one who needs to be consoled right now... Poor Fenris, he just doesn't realise that he needs to find the right woman to do that on. Which is me, of course," she added with another sly grin before continuing to pace again. "Oh hell, why don't we just go up there and break in?" Isabela threw a longing gaze at the second floor. "I'm sure I could get the lock open, even if you can't. I've already done it before."

"Since when have you become suicidal, Rivaini?" Varric drawled and raised an eyebrow. "Is your long-lost relic not important to you anymore? Have you lost the will to live?"

"Of course not Varric, don't be daft," the pirate waved off his words impatiently with a flick of her hand. "What are you talking about anyway?"

The dwarf cleared his throat and looked at her meaningfully. "Do you _want_ to get a fireball full in the face, Rivaini?"

"Oh," Isabela stopped in her tracks. "That. Oh, yeah. I hadn't thought of that."

"Of course you hadn't," a voice spoke coldly from the hallway and Aveline walked into the room a few seconds later, dressed in her full body armour and carrying a sturdy shield in front of her. She looked at Varric and Isabela, her eyes filled with equal parts of annoyance and determination. "But I have. And I'm tired of people running amok in the city all of a sudden because Hawke has decided to take a vacation in her bedroom. Stand aside, both of you. I'm getting her out of there."

Isabela strolled up to Aveline, a mocking smile on her face. "You think fire doesn't melt armour then?"

"I don't care if it does or it doesn't, I'm still getting her out of there," Aveline replied, narrowing the slits of her eyes. "But if you don't let me pass, slutton, it won't be fire that will finish you off. It will be blunt force trauma. From _my_ shield."

Aveline's response made Isabela giggle. "Taking the law into your own hands now, Guard-Captain? I like it. It's nice to see you jumping off that high and mighty pedestal you're always on these days. It's either that or jumping on Sir Donnic, isn't it?"

"I ought to cuff you in chains for that one, whore," Aveline bristled and stepped closer to the pirate. "Don't you dare talk about my husband like that, he's got nothing to do with this."

"Oh please _do_ cuff me in chains, dear Aveline," Isabela grinned and winked at her. "It's been a while, but the last time that happened... well, let's just say that it was thoroughly enjoyable."

"When are the two of you just going to get it over and done with? Preferably in a mud bath?" Varric stepped in just as Aveline was approaching the pirate captain with quick strides and a murderous look on her face.

"They're more than welcome to do it whenever they like, but not in _my _mansion," Hawke's voice suddenly reached them, stopping them in their tracks. All three of her companions looked up to the balcony to see the mage standing there, dressed in black leather with her staff firmly held in her right hand, her hair tied back in a ponytail and her eyes filled with cool determination.

"Hawke!" Varric exclaimed jovially and waved at her with his crossbow. "Welcome back to the land of the living! How does it feel?"

"I'll let you know later," Marian replied as she made her way down the stairs. "After we've gone to the Docks and had ourselves a good old audience with the Arishok. I need to find out what he wants me to do about this explosive powder that's gone missing, and if he wants me to hunt the thieves down then I will happily turn the whole of Kirkwall upside down until I can find them and shatter them into tiny little pieces." She looked at Aveline and shrugged as she saw the look of mild disapproval on the Guard-Captain's face. "There are some advantages to getting my status back in this town, you know. At least the Templars are learning to look the other way about my magic. Now who's coming with me?"

"I am!," Varric grinned and gave Bianca a gentle pat. "My lady has grown awfully bored of being used simply for target practice. She needs a real challenge, and I wouldn't mind pocketing a few coins either."

"I'll join you later, if that's alright," Isabela offered Hawke with a smile. "I need to go see a man about a dragon first. A very important dragon."

Marian nodded without asking any further questions; Isabela's response did not seem to surprise her. "Before we meet up again, do you think you could find Fenris for me?," she asked coolly, tapping her fingers against the railing of the staircase. "I'm going to need his experience with the Qunari in this situation. He's dealt with them before."

"Sure thing Hawke," Isabela smiled broadly before dodging an incoming elbow from Varric. "Whatever you want. Oh, and it's nice to see you're still alive and all. Varric and I had a running bet about it. See, _he_ thought that you were knocked unconscious by a thief, but_ I_ thought that maybe you had been eaten alive by your mabari-"

"Spare Hawke the details Rivaini," Varric said through gritted teeth with a forced smile, interrupting Isabela with an attempted kick, which the pirate dodged skilfully as well.

Hawke rolled her eyes at both of them and laughed. "You're impossible, both of you," she shook her head. "Well, as you can see, I'm alive and well, and eager to get on with things." She glanced at Aveline to gauge her reaction.

"It's good to have you back, Hawke," the Fereldan Guard-Captain smiled at her, ignoring Isabela's presence for the moment. "The city has missed you_. I_ have missed you. Just try and not get yourself into a whole lot of trouble straight away, will you?"

"I'm not sure I can promise you that Aveline," Marian grinned as she started making her way toward the hallway, eagerly twirling her staff between her fingers in anticipation for the battles to come. "Trouble seems to be what I do best."


	16. Chapter 16

**Disclaimer:** Fenris, Hawke and all other characters in this story are owned by Bioware. I'm just here to play with them.

********Wolf Unchained, Chapter 16********

As the sounds of shrieking humans in pain reached his ears, Fenris guessed that the worst had come to pass. Hawke's swift approach with Aveline giving out commands to the guardsmen at her side seemed to confirm this notion.

"Gather all the wounded and get them to the Chantry!" Aveline shouted to her men, pointing at the Qunari compound her and Hawke had just emerged from. "We've got no time to lose!"

Fenris attempted to keep a calm veneer as they approached him, even though his whole body was already trembling with anticipation for the coming fight. "I'm guessing our friends from Par Vollen have decided to attack after all?" He asked as the mage approached him, stopping for a moment to rest her hands on her knees to catch her breath.

"You could say that," Hawke gasped breathlessly, clutching her staff for support. "Aveline and I are lucky to still be alive. When we reached the Arishok and confronted him, everything just-"

"It's absolute madness out there Hawke," Aveline shouted as she pointed at the rooftops. Several buildings seemed to have caught on fire in the unexpected Qunari attack. Roofs were already beginning to smoulder and collapse, crushing helpless people beneath their weight. The smell of burning flesh coursed through the air like a bitter aftertaste of defeat.

"We have got to do something about this! Maker help us, there are people dying out there!" The Guard-Captain turned to face Hawke after having issued the last of her orders. "I've asked my guards to do what they can, but we can't just let these Qunari destroy an entire city in their path!"

"No," Hawke agreed grimly as she stood up. "We can't. We need to seek out the Arishok... And Andraste's tits, I don't know how, but we're going to have to find a way to stop him. Come on, we need to get away from this place before we burn along with everything else."

The apostate set the pace as they began making their way through the debris of what was left of Lowtown;s streets. Fenris and Aveline flanked her on both sides, their weapons drawn as they scouted the streets for possible ambushes. "We're going to swing by the Alienage and pick up Merril, since Varric has gone looking for Isabela," Hawke explained curtly as she took an unexpected left turn. Fenris thought about protesting against bringing a known blood mage to a Qunari killing party, but then thought better of it. He knew what Hawke was like once she had made a decision and tonight was not the right night to push his luck.

For once Fenris was simply grateful for the opportunity of getting into a fight without having to worry about the constant, awkward silence that now existed between them by default. It had been months since Isabela had tracked him down, insisting that Hawke required his assistance with the Qunari situation. He had agreed to help, though he and Hawke had not exchanged words directly. Now whenever they met Hawke treated him with the cool and professional courtesy of a mercenary, which Fenris was quick to reciprocate. The nagging voice at the back of his mind that insisted he should apologize was ignored until it faded away. This treatment was nothing less than what he deserved, and he was well aware of that.

"I take it that Isabela and this Qunari relic-", Aveline started as they walked briskly through the deserted streets.

"The Tome of Koslund," Fenris offered. "Their most precious and treasured religious text."

"Gone," Marian said bleakly and kicked a plank of wood out of her path. "Gone as soon as we entered the warehouse, as soon as she glimpsed the book in the hands of that Tevinter mage." The apostate's temperament was beginning to show once more as she blasted her way through some rubble that was blocking their way. "She left me a note on the mage's dead body, saying that she was sorry and wishing me all the best. Can you believe that?"

"I can actually," Aveline said as she stepped over the rubble, crunching it under the weight of her steel-plated boots. "I wouldn't expect anything less from someone like that. I know you don't want to hear 'I told you so' Hawke, but what on earth were you thinking by consorting with this... this-"

"Qunari ambush!" Fenris hissed and crouched down, instinctively grabbing the hem of Hawke's robe and pulling her to the ground, protecting her small frame with his body. The ambushers were on them in a matter of seconds, their large spears whizzing through the air as they sought to find their mark. The first one missed Fenris' head by an inch, burying itself deep in the concrete wall next to him. The second he blocked with his sword, making it break in half on impact. "Not this time," he snarled as he picked up the broken spear and sent it flying into the chest of a fast approaching Qunari. Behind him Hawke had already recovered, her fingertips exploding with streaks of lightning. Her magic scorched and electrified her enemies until they collapsed at her feet, their eyes rolling back into their sockets, their bodies shaking as their skin sizzled from the force of her spells. Fenris had no time to observe her handiwork as he was already rushing into the next wave of attackers, his battle cry piercing the sky as he allowed his flesh to flare up with the power of his lyrium brands, momentarily blinding the oncoming Qunari.

"Saarebas! Saarebas!," they cried out as they met him in battle, wildly swinging their spears, seeking to end his life with every swing of their weapons. He did not know whether their cries were meant for him or Hawke, and it did not matter. He found her fighting next to him in battle, her staff moving blindingly fast to parry the incoming attacks, her magic either burning her enemies and melting their flesh before his eyes or turning them into blocks of solid ice which shattered on the impact of his sword. Her magic had grown even more powerful over the years that he had known her, and he could not help being impressed by how effectively she used it.

"Aveline, watch out!" Hawke shouted to her friend who was engaged in a fierce fight with a gigantic Qunari who seemed to be the leader of the pack. Aveline's shield was smashing into his flesh relentlessly time and time again as her sword sought to find his weak spots, attacking with deadly accuracy. She was too focused on staying alive to spot the hooded figure of a Qunari mage behind her. The mage's hands were raised high in the air, its voice carrying across the battlefield to darken the sky all around them as it seemed to be summoning forth a spell of immense power, directing it straight at the Guard-Captain.

"Aveline, no!," Hawke cried out and made a desperate lunge forward to save her friend, but Fenris reached out and pulled her back without having time to consider his actions. He wrapped his arms around her, his steel armour making his hold a prison the mage could not get out of without hurting herself, as well as the elf.

"Let go of me!" She growled, struggling furiously in his arms as the magic of the Qunari mage continued to build in strength, unbeknownst to Aveline who would be taking the full force of it.

"It's too late," he hissed in her ear, pulling her even closer for protection. He was damned if he would let her sacrifice her life like this, even if she hated him for it. He squeezed his eyes shut and turned Hawke away from the incoming blast, her sobbing and swearing thundering in his ears. Then the unimaginable happened - the mage's furious chanting was suddenly interrupted and a bloodcurdling cry pierced the air. He looked up just in time to see a large root springing from the ground, enveloping the Qunari mage and squeezing it to death in the blink of an eye.

Behind its now lifeless body he spotted the thin, child-like frame of Merril, springing forth from the shadows. The remaining Qunari were enraged at the sight of another Saarebas who had just slain one of their own, converging on the elven girl like a pack of wolves. She did not give them an opportunity to strike as she tapped her staff to the ground. The earth beneath Fenris' feet began to shake furiously as the ground opened up before them like a hungry, gaping maw. It swallowed the Qunari whole as they were taken unawares; rushing heedless at Merril until they fell into the dark pit she had created with her earthen magic. Their screams began fading away as they disappeared into the abyss. As the last of them vanished in the void, she tapped her staff again to close the gaping hole, restoring the ground beneath her feet as if it had never been gone.

"Merril, what are you doing here?" Aveline gasped as she turned around, having killed the leader of the Qunari pack without being aware of how close she had come to her own demise.

Merril smiled shyly. "I heard all the commotion and decided to come see what was happening," she explained matter-of-factly as she looked around. Her gaze turned toward the Qunari mage she had killed, its body giving some evidence of the fight that had just taken place. "Oh dear. I hope this wasn't a friend of yours?"

"No, Merril. It wasn't," Hawke replied before slightly inclining her head toward her captor. "Am I free to go now?," she asked lowly, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she stood still in Fenris' arms, no longer struggling.

"Oh," the elf blinked. "Er, yes, of course," he stammered nervously as he dropped his arms to his sides, freeing the mage from their hold in an instant. The icy look that she gave him before she rushed over to Aveline's side did not bode well. He clenched his teeth and turned around to find his sword which he had dropped in order to grab hold of Hawke. He spotted it a few feet away, stuck in the shoulder of a dead Qunari. He pulled the sword out in one smooth motion before wiping it clean against the Qunari's tattered clothing, trying to ignore the on-going dialogue of the rest of the group. What an idiot he continued to be, making a constant fool of himself in front of someone who hated him and had every right to do so. Why had he acted so protectively? Hawke knew how to look after herself. _Stupid, stupid, stupid. _

"This is a fool's errand," he muttered quietly to himself before sheathing his sword once more.

"Oh don't worry Fenris, it's really not that bad," Merril piped up next to him, almost making him jump. For a dangerous psychopathic blood mage, the elven girl also seemed to be capable of being very, very sneaky... disturbingly so. "We'll just go and talk to the Arishok and straighten things out, right? I'm sure he didn't mean for any of this to happen. Although I will have to have a few words with him about the mess in the Alienage. His friends really did leave it in a sorry state," she continued thoughtfully. "I might even have to set up a cleaning roster at this rate."

Fenris raised his eyebrows in mute response and looked at Hawke and Aveline for assistance. The former avoided his gaze completely, while the latter just rolled her eyes and shrugged her shoulders. Even Aveline couldn't resist being lenient to Hawke's friends, no matter how crazy they were.

"Come on, let's get a move on," Hawke said curtly as she picked up her staff and started moving in the direction of Hightown. "There's plenty more ahead where those came from."

_Many dead Qunari later..._

The grand steps of the Viscount's Keep loomed ahead in the darkness, the silhouettes of several dozen Qunari barely visible in the fading light. Hawke frowned in concentration as she counted their numbers while peeking from around the corner, nervously biting at her bottom lip.

"We're going to need a distraction," she finally said as she turned around to face the gathered crowd behind her. Fenris nodded mutely in approval of Hawke's plan. As much as he enjoyed the pleasure of bloodshed, the numbers were not on their side and the Qunari had the advantage on the higher ground of the Keep. Hawke would not be able to storm the Keep by surprise. It was time to get tactical.

"I'd suggest sending in myself and Bianca, but I'm afraid I value my own skin – as well as my crossbow - far too much," Varric whispered quietly to Fenris so only the elf could hear. The dwarf had managed to join up with their group once they had reached Hightown, disappointed with his fruitless search for Isabela. Fenris suspected the pirate was sailing across the Narrow Sea by now with the Tome of Koslund safely tucked away. _Once a thief, always a thief_, he thought pragmatically. Sebastian seemed to have focused his efforts on helping the wounded in the Chantry instead.

"Thank the Maker, Hawke! That's what I've been saying all along!," the elven Circle mage called Orsino clasped his hands in gratitude and threw an icy stare in the direction of a heavily armoured woman who Fenris recognised as the leader of the Templar order here in Kirkwall – Knight-Commander Meredith. "Some would prefer us to die in needless battle," Orsino continued while staring at Meredith, making it perfectly clear who he was talking about. "I'm grateful that not everyone is the same."

"Would you be able to assist us, First Enchanter?" Hawke asked as she looked back at the mob of gathering Qunari once more.

Fenris shifted his weight slightly from his left foot to his right. "We do not have much time," he growled as he glanced at Hawke through a curtain of white hair that fell across his face. He pushed a few stray locks out of the way in a gesture of impatience. "Your Viscount and half of your nobility could be getting slaughtered as we speak."

"Maker's breath, no!" Orsino gasped at his words.

Knight-Commander Meredith frowned. "Nonsense," she said coolly. "Surely they would keep the Viscount as a hostage? A bargaining chip?"

The elf snorted. Clearly these humans knew very little about the ways of the Qun. "The Arishok will pose the Viscount and his nobles a question, asking if they are willing to convert to the Qun. If they say 'yes', they will be spared."

"And if they say 'no'?" Meredith's eyes narrowed.

"Then they will die with the rest," Fenris replied simply and shrugged.

"Then we cannot waste any more time." Orsino rushed forward, his gnarled Enchanter's staff at the ready. "Hawke, you and your friends must get inside the Keep. These people must be saved. I will create a distraction – I have a plan that I'm sure the Qunari will appreciate."

"What have you got in mind, Orsino?" The leader of the Templars asked suspiciously, turning her gaze upon the First Enchanter, who merely smiled.

"Have faith, Knight-Commander," he said as he strode forward, flicking his staff dextrously in his hands. Fenris and Hawke watched as the Enchanter turned around the corner to reveal himself to the waiting Qunari horde. The sounds of dying Qunari swiftly reached their ears. Whatever Orsino's plan was, it seemed to be working.

"This way," Varric whispered as he motioned Hawke and her friends forward, half-crouched. They left Meredith and her Templars behind, the Knight-Commander watching them disappear around the corner with an unreadable look in her eyes. They snuck through the shadows of Hightown, using the pillars surrounding the entrance of the Viscount's Keep for cover as they kept safely out of sight from the Qunari horde. Orsino was keeping their enemies occupied with his magic, his fire blasting the Qunari as they continued to rush forward into their own demise. Fenris observed the spectacle as they moved through the shadows, pondering what made some mages stronger than others. Orsino was a powerful spell caster, and yet he used no blood magic, same as Hawke. How did they resist its powerful call and the strength it would grant them? Were they stronger than the Tevinter magisters Fenris had known during his time as a slave?

Inside the signs of battle and death were everywhere. "I think we have to be very, very careful here," Fenris whispered as he drew his broadsword, prickling his sharp elven ears for any sounds of approaching enemies.

"You can say that again," Varric frowned as he knelt down to disarm a trap that was left for them right on the stairs, motioning for Hawke and the rest to stay behind him until he was done. He had barely finished disarming it when a swarm of Qunari suddenly descended upon them from the higher levels of the Keep, sweeping all of them into a furious fight for their lives. Fenris was relishing every kill, every stroke of his sword – every bit of anger and frustration that he was harbouring inside him seemed to momentarily vanish whenever he looked in the eyes of an enemy, knowing that he was about to take another life. He did not know whether he was born to kill, or whether this murderous instinct had been burned inside him together with the lyrium markings. All Fenris could tell was that he enjoyed doing it, especially now that he was fighting side-by-side with Hawke and her companions at his own free will, not at the behest of Danarius.

The battle was short and brutal, and they had no time to rest as they still had not seen any sign of the Viscount, or the Arishok. They rushed forward once more, through the grand hallway and into the Throne Room, ready to face whatever monstrosities that lay before them.

_Many more dead Qunari later..._

The Arishok lunged for Hawke with his gigantic axe and it was all Fenris could do not to jump in front of her to parry the attack.

"Stay calm, Fenris," Isabela whispered next to him with a sly grin. "Hawke's a big girl, she can handle this."

To prove the pirate's words right, Hawke rolled swiftly out of Arishok's reach, his axe striking the cold marble floor instead of her body, sending splinters flying through the air with the force of his blow. Wordlessly and with deadly accuracy, Hawke's hands reached out to summon a rain of fire that started scorching the room, aiming straight for the Qunari leader.

"Don't talk to me right now unless you have a death wish," Fenris growled and clenched his teeth as he nervously watched how the battle between the two raged on in the crowded Throne Room. Half of Kirkwall's nobility was standing against the walls, watching the fight that would determine their fates. It might be too late for the Viscount, whose head was resting not far from Fenris' bare feet, but the nobility might still live – if Hawke could win this duel. "This is all happening because of you." He squeezed the hilt of his sword until his knuckles turned white. He knew that Hawke had the right to challenge the Arishok in a duel. He simply wished she hadn't done it for the sake of saving the life of someone who had already betrayed her – namely Isabela. The pirate had chosen to show up at a convenient moment during their confrontation with the Arishok, the Tome of Koslund safely in her grasp like a peace offering.

"Hey, I didn't ask for any of this to happen on my behalf," the pirate protested meekly. "I was just trying to do-"

"The right thing?" Fenris snapped, not taking his eyes off the battle. _He hated feeling helpless, oh Maker he hated it so much_. "None of us ever do the right thing."

"Except for Hawke," Isabela pointed out.

He frowned. She had him there. "Except for Hawke," he agreed quietly and watched as the Arishok rushed forward with furious determination to end the mage's life. Fenris' heart was beating so loudly in his chest he could barely hear anything else. He didn't care if Hawke hated him. He didn't care if she never spoke to him again. He only cared about her surviving this encounter, living another day so that he could watch her get really angry at something ridiculously petty and start casting fireballs again.

The finishing stroke came after what felt like a lifetime. Hawke had barely dodged the Arishok's axe, the sharp weapon still cutting the air when the mage's staff shot forward, knocking the Qunari momentarily off his feet. A moment was all she needed as she called forth a wall of spikes from the ground, impaling the Arishok and finally ending the battle. A stunned silence followed his death before his followers started dropping their spears to the ground, one by one admitting their defeat.

Hawke looked around the Throne Room, resting on her staff in apparent exhaustion. Her armour was covered in blood; her hair was a tangled mess. Fenris thought that she had never looked more beautiful. Hawke blinked in confusion as a sea of well-wishers suddenly seemed to surround her from all sides. All members of Kirkwall nobility reached out to her, wanting to touch the woman who had somehow managed to save their lives, despite all the odds being against them. In the midst of all the confusion of the aftermath, Hawke's eyes sought out Fenris who had remained standing still, uncertain whether he should approach her or not. To his surprise, she smiled at him and there was warmth in the depths of her eyes once more.

He did not know how it happened, but he found himself in the crowd, shoving nobles out of his way to reach the mage. "You're alive," he said awkwardly when he reached her and stifled a nervous laugh.

Hawke beamed at him with relief and happiness written all over her exhausted features. "I know," she said and gave him a conspiratory wink. "I'm surprised about that myself, to be honest."

He wanted to say something clever and flattering, or better yet apologize for being such an idiot, but the words did not come. He felt the crowd around them give way as the doors to the Throne Room opened once more. He turned his head just in time to see Knight-Commander Meredith walking toward Hawke with a Templar entourage at her heels. It only took her a moment to survey the scene before she lifted her calculating gaze to Hawke's face. "It seems that Kirkwall has a new Champion," she said with a small smile playing on her lips.

The cheers and applause from the crowd swelled around them like a wave that kept rising higher and higher. Fenris was unable to take his eyes of Hawke, who turned her head to smile at him once more. The smile was so full of warmth, happiness and an overwhemling sense of relief that he felt himself returning it. _Maker be thrice damned_, he thought bitterly to himself. _This woman will be the death of me. _


	17. Chapter 17

**Disclaimer:** Fenris, Hawke and all other characters in this story are owned by Bioware. I'm just here to play with them.

**Wolf Unchained, Chapter 17  
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Every city had a soul. Every town, every village had an essence, something that defined it and made it memorable. Something that made a traveller stop when they reached a certain place and say – "This is where I want to live for the rest of my life. This is where I want to have a family and grow old." With time, the essence of a place could change. Wars and battles did not only affect the fortunes of people – they also changed the landscapes of entire countries and all towns contained within them. Drastic events always had an effect on the structures people used to create stability in their lives, and yet somehow despite all havoc changes could create, certain things remained untouched. Some cities would always be beacons of strength in the dark, centres of power, a playground for good and evil. These cities had to be reckoned with. They were places people would flock to like innocent moths to a flame, only to be crushed by those who were strong enough to exert their dominance. A play of power, constantly taking place, fluctuating, changing, yet ever present.

Kirkwall was not a place where Fenris could see himself growing old, let alone starting a family. And yet the pull of this city and the power contained within it was something he could not ignore. Years had come and gone, and the opportunities to leave this place had always been plentiful. And yet he found himself lingering here in this City of Chains, like a bad habit. He had his reasons to do so, of course – he had been indebted to Hawke for her assistance, and Kirkwall had seemed like a good base of operations in his search for his sister. Yet both reasons seemed to ring hollow as he went through them in his mind, sounding more and more like pathetic excuses. His debt to Hawke – such as it had been – had long since been repaid. He owed her nothing. And now that he had finally managed to make some progress in locating his sister, he could no longer use her as an excuse to stay. As for Danarius, the elf highly doubted that his former Master would be foolish enough to leave his fortress of strength in Minrathous. It was entirely possible that their paths would never cross again. Fenris was a free elf – he was free to go wherever he wished.

So why had he stayed in Kirkwall for so long? It was a question that he had asked himself many times. Perhaps it was simpler than he thought – perhaps Kirkwall was just as good a place as any for a free elf to start a new life. But in his heart he knew that there was more to it. Kirkwall had pulled him into its black heart, its dirty streets, its myriad of political schemes and dangers. It compelled him to stay here, year after year, in this mansion that was filled with so many bad memories and even worse decorations. And above all else, Kirkwall had him trapped because it had the one thing he no longer seemed to be able to exist without. Kirkwall had Hawke.

His feelings for her were still a mystery to him, as well as an endless source of frustration. Of all the cruel jokes the gods could have played on him, they had undoubtedly picked the worst one. If someone had told him seven years ago, when he was being chased from ship to ship by Danarius' slavers, that he would one day fall in love with a mage, he probably would have killed them for displaying such a poor sense of humour. To make matters worse, the fact that she was a mage had long since ceased to matter to him. He no longer saw Hawke as a dangerous apostate. Instead, he marvelled at her strength of will, her vivid personality as well as her inspiring humility and bravery in the face of danger and imminent death. To him, she was so much more than a mage – she was an incredible woman who made her own path in life, making difficult decisions along the way and having the strength of character to live with the consequences, for better and for worse. For all of those things, and so much more, Fenris found himself to be completely and irrevocably in love with her.

"But what am I going to do about it?" He whispered softly into the Kirkwall night as he looked through the window of his mansion, expecting no response. It was an excellent question that he had been struggling with for too long without coming to a successful conclusion. He had been alone all his life – and the parts he could not remember no longer mattered. Could he ever find the courage to change that predicament, to take that leap of faith? During his time of knowing Hawke, he had also made some terrible mistakes – he was wise enough to see his past actions for what they were. Surely his cowardice and stubbornness had extinguished any possibility of a relationship? Not having any answers, he was left to wrestle with the demons of his mind with nowhere to seek solace. His weekly outings to The Hanged Man for a game of cards with Varric, Aveline's husband Donnic and other frequent visitors to the inn certainly could not count as beneficial social interaction.

A seagull shrieked in the distance, circling the towers of the Viscount's Keep. Soft moonlight illuminated the buildings of Hightown, giving everything a glossy image of peace and quiet. Fenris was not deceived by this treacherous mask. Having spent almost six years in the city he knew that Hightown could be just as dangerous as the deepest bowels of Darktown. Here the danger was simply more disguised, the stab in the back concealed by a friendly shake of hands.

He stepped away from the window and retreated to the bed, which he was growing more accustomed to. Having lit several large candles to provide himself sufficient light, he returned to the book he was currently reading, titled "Ferelden: Folklore and History". He had received it as a gift from Sebastian last year. Despite their awkward relationship, Hawke had kept her promise to help him learn how to read. She had turned up at his doorstep one night, not too long after her victory over the Arishok, nervously clutching the notes she had made with Orana in her hand. Something about her demeanour had changed after that frightful battle with the Qunari. She had once again become as friendly and talkative as she had been before he had managed to damage their relationship so terribly. No mention was ever made of _that night_, and she never accused him of anything. Fenris had been all too happy to accept this turn of events without any questions.

"A promise is a promise," she had said after waving the notes in his face when she stood outside his door. "May I come in?"

He had let her inside after only a moment's hesitation, secretly pleased by her visit and happy to use any excuse for it. He had not thought that learning how to read would become such an obsession for him - he had not realised how incredibly empowering it would feel to finally start making sense of things that used to be nothing more than scribbles and lines to him before. Hawke had taught him the alphabet that night and watched over him as he studiously began scribbling the strange shapes on a piece of parchment, trying to make sense of their meaning. Several times he had almost given up out of frustration, shamed with his own inability to understand. He was worried that she would see the endeavour as a waste of time, and him – a fool. But Hawke always simply persuaded him to try again.

They had stayed up until the early hours of the morning, Fenris labouring to read a single page of text while Hawke patiently corrected him and encouraged him to keep going. Even after the mage had left to return to her mansion, the elf had continued in his efforts until falling asleep at the table with ink-covered hands. The enigma of letters continued to entice him, pushing him onward until he broke through the barrier of understanding. The scribbles finally started making sense, one by one, and the feeling of success had been exhilarating.

The first book he managed to read was _The Book of Shartan_, the gift Hawke had given him what felt like a lifetime ago. It took him many nights of pained labouring with the mage's assistance to finish the autobiography of the elf who had helped Andraste free the slaves of the Tevinter Imperium. When his task was complete he felt like he had just managed to climb a very steep mountain and was now overlooking a great valley that lay beyond. He had been borrowing books from Hawke's library ever since, his reading improving at a rate that pleased and surprised him. Even his writing eventually started becoming legible. The first letter he wrote was a note to his sister. Having managed to find out her address in Minrathous he decided to follow Sebastian's advice and find out whether or not he did have some family out there, somewhere. He had sent the ltter over a month ago by a ship that seemed to have a trustworthy captain (at least Fenris hoped so seeing as he had given him a plentiful bribe). He had not received a response yet.

His long fingers slid over the smooth surface of the page he was currently reading, his eyes carefully following each line before he flicked it over. Fully engrossed in the story that was slowly unfolding before him, he did not notice that something was wrong until he heard the sound of hurried footsteps in the lower part of the mansion. His first instinct wasn't to grab the sword that was resting against the fireplace; he had learned to recognise those footsteps a long time ago. It was the one person he did not mind breaking into his house at strange hours of the night.

"Hawke?" He called out as he jumped out of bed, snapping the book shut. He managed to reach the doorway with a few long strides before Hawke crashed straight into him. He steadied her by grasping her elbows before she could fall, squinting into her face.

"Hawke, is everything alright?" He repeated, his concern quickly turning into worry as he noticed the strange glow of her eyes and the paleness of her skin.

"Fenris, you've got to help me," she whispered feverishly, her eyes desperately seeking his. She gripped his arm for support, her fingers painfully digging into his skin. "It's Mother. She's gone missing. She received lilies... From some unknown suitor."

"Lilies?" Fenris began to grasp the extent of her worry. He remembered the case of the murderous stalker they had investigated together many years ago, with only futile results. The killer had enjoyed sending his victims flowers, luring them out with flattery and gifts before they vanished, never to be seen again. The culprit had never been found, although they had hunted down several suspects during their search.

"Have you told Aveline?" He asked quietly.

Marian nodded straight away, blinking to remove a stray tear. "She's waiting outside, along with Varric and Gamlen," she said as she nodded toward the street. "Gamlen came to me, saying that Mother was late for their weekly visit...," her voice trembled with emotion. She cleared her throat to compose herself. "Aveline's ordered the City Guard to look for her," she continued. "We were going to try and retrace her footsteps... In case she was taken on her way to Gamlen's..." She looked away and blinked again, bringing a hand up to her eyes. "I wanted you to come with me, on the search," she said after a while, swallowing what seemed to be a large knot in her throat. "I... I need you with me, Fenris."

Fenris squeezed her arm. "Of course Hawke," he said. "Anything you need. Just... give me a moment."

He released her arm and dashed back to his bedside, where his armour was gathered in a heap. He donned it in a matter of seconds with practiced movements, strapping it to his flesh as quickly as he possibly could. Hawke seemed to take the opportunity to compose herself, staring into the dying embers of his fireplace as he was getting ready.

"Let's go," he said, grabbing his newest sword on the way out. She nodded silently before turning around, both of them swiftly making their way downstairs, out of the house and into the suddenly foreboding night.

_Inside the Lowtown warehouse..._

Hawke looked up at the painting on the wall. Her mother's face stared back at her, painted with strange, uneven strokes. The strokes of a madman. "Who would do something like this?" She whispered in disbelief.

"_Why_ would someone do something like this?" Varric echoed as he looked at the painting. "I don't think I've ever seen anything... this morbid."

Fenris kneeled down to flick through some of the books that had been left behind in this strange altar room, his frown deepening as he skim-read a few pages here and there. These were all books pertaining to blood magic, containing forbidden arts and instructions on dark rituals. The contents of this entire room, along with the bodies they had already discovered earlier in the tunnels told him that they were dealing with someone extremely dangerous indeed. He feared for Hawke's mother. He feared for Hawke.

"We should move on," he said as he pushed the books away from him in disgust and stood up.

"You're right," Hawke said as she looked away from the painting and shuddered. "If she is here somewhere, I need to find her."

_If it's not too late,_ Fenris thought and exchanged a glance with Aveline, who had been scouting the tunnel ahead. He could tell that she had just thought the same thing.

"I spotted some movement ahead," the Guard-Captain informed Hawke as she nodded back toward the tunnel she had just come from. "I think there's someone there."

"Good. It's time to settle this," Hawke said quietly as she grabbed her staff and walked into the darkening passage, without looking to see if anyone would follow her. She didn't have to. They were all right there beside her.

They came out on the other side of the tunnel and entered a large, scantly lit room. At first it appeared to be empty and Fenris could almost feel Hawke's disappointment building inside her, about to break out in terrible rage – when suddenly they spotted a table on the other side with a woman sitting next to it on a chair. She was facing away from them, wearing a white wedding dress. A man with elderly features and wearing the robes of a mage was kneeling down next to her, looking into her face. He stood up at their approach, his face a mask of calmness and self-assurance. Fenris could see the insanity that hid behind the mask. He knew they had found their culprit.

"I was wondering when you were going to show up," the man said with a small smile playing on his lips as he turned to meet Hawke and her companions. "Lleandra was so sure that you would come for her."

Hawke pointed her staff directly at his heart, her body tensing as she took in the scene before her eyes. "I have come to put a stop to this insanity," she said, her voice shaking with anger. "You will let my mother go. Right now."

The man's smile widened as he looked at Hawke. Fenris gripped his sword and growled, eager to cut the smile out of the madman's face with his blade.

"You will never understand my purpose," the lunatic grinned as he watched Hawke, seemingly relaxed and not at all worried about the deadly stares of her companions. "Your mother was chosen because she was special. Now she is part of something... greater."

"I don't have to listen to this shit," Marian growled as she looked at the figure sitting at the table, her staff remaining firmly pointed at the madman. Behind Fenris, Varric had already readied a bolt in his crossbow, aiming it straight for the killer's heart.

"Mother?" Hawke shouted to the strange, unmoving figure. Fenris could tell that she was desperate to rush over to her, but was unwilling to turn her back on the lunatic who was the cause of all this. "Mother, is that you? Can you hear me?"

"She has been waiting for you, Hawke," the man's insane grin lit up his eyes, giving them a strange glow. "I have done the impossible," he whispered quietly as he fixed his eyes on the back of the motionless figure, almost as if he was talking to himself. "I have touched the face of the Maker... and lived."

"You're a few nugs short of a good party, you know that?" Varric shook his head. "Where do we find these madmen Hawke?"

"Do you know what the strongest force in the universe is?" The stranger continued, oblivious to the dwarf's remarks. "Love," he whispered happily and smiled as he approached the sitting figure. Hawke stood mutely and watched him, blood slowly draining from her face. "I pieced her together from memory," he continued, his voice full of crazed devotion. "I found her eyes, her skin, her delicate fingers..." The madman's fingers touched Lleandra's chin as he gently lifted her face and smiled at her. "And at last, her face... Oh, her beautiful face..."

Something was wrong, very wrong. The figure rose slowly at the behest of the lunatic, its movements strange and shuddering in their quality. Fenris was suddenly reminded of a puppet he had found in the servant's quarters of Danarius' mansion. It had strings attached to its limbs and when he had pulled on them, the puppet's movements had been just the same.

"I've searched far and wide for you beloved, and no force on this earth will part us," the madman smiled as he touched the figure's hand and made it turn around to face them.

Fenris felt his blood run cold. The thing that now faced them was not Hawke's mother, and yet it had her face. Its unseeing, hollow eyes stared at them as it continued to make its shuddering movements, its disfigured face blank and lifeless. A deep, red gash covered the thing's neck and Lleandra's head seemed to be sown on top of it with an unpractised hand. The same procedure had been repeated with all of its limbs, each hand and foot painstakingly sown on with black thread to make it into a whole. It was a monstrosity.

Fenris's gaze turned back to the lunatic with hatred, his lyrium markings taking on a life of their own in the face of this lunacy. This man was just like all the magisters of Tevinter. They all thought they were gods, and anyone beneath them could be used, exploited, drawn into their malicious schemes. And now he had taken from Hawke the one thing she had always relied on.

Hawke stared at the ghastly, moving thing in front of her. "M-mother?" She stammered, slowly taking few steps back as the thing that wore her mother's face continued to move towards her. Fenris swallowed the anger in his throat and grabbed Hawke's hand, steering her away from the abomination.

"Destroy them my love!" The madman shouted before he raised his hands to the ceiling and began chanting in a deep, insane voice. The earth shook all around them as the blood mage's demons and abominations sprung up from the ground, surrounding their small party in a heartbeat and blocking the blood mage from their view. Hawke was a shivering, enraged wreck next to Fenris, her anger spilling forth as she set the abominations on fire all around her while calling out for he rmother. Fenris roared in defiance of the creatures that surrounded him, furious at the injustice of what was happening. He raised his sword in a high arc, deftly cutting through the brittle frames of skeletons who tried to pry at him with their long, bony fingers. Somewhere in the chaos he could hear Bianca's lightning-fast repeater working overtime in Varric's hands, and Aveline was just as consumed by fury as the rest of them, her shield slamming into her foes with a thundering force. His lyrium markings flared with his hatred for blood magic as he dug his sword into the flesh of each abomination, cursing them lowly under his breath as he did so.

Then he suddenly spotted Hawke, locked in a furious duel with the lunatic who had taken her mother away from her. Tears of anger and sorrow were running down her cheeks as she parried his spells, her staff shooting bolts of lightning from its tip as it scorched everything in its path. The blood mage continued to laugh, its mouth twisted into an insane leer up until the moment Hawke killed him with a final blow to the head, her staff sending his body reeling across the floor.

As Hawke walked over to spit on the man's corpse, Lleandra's disfigured body rose up behind her and moved toward the mage with halting, uncertain steps. "Marian," it whispered before it collapsed at Hawke's feet, still reaching out to her.

A desperate sob escaped the mage's throat and her staff fell to the ground. She leaned over the thing that had once been her mother and took it gently in her arms. She craded her mother's head on her knees, her whole body shaking with sorrow.

"I knew you would come," Lleandra's head whispered to her daughter, her eyes suddenly filled with a glint of warmth and recognition. The blood mage's control over the body seemed to have died together with the madman.

"Don't move, Mother," Marian whispered fiercely as she looked into her mother's eyes, holding on to some small measure of hope that she could see in the face that was so dear to her. "Somehow we'll find a way to-"

"Shh," Lleandra said quietly, her ghostly pale hand reaching up to stroke away the flood of tears from Hawke's face. "Don't fret, darling. That man would have kept me trapped in here... but now, I am free." Hawke's mother smiled sadly. "I'll get to see Carver again... and your father. But you, Marian... You will be alone."

"Mother," Hawke choked on the word, her small frame slumping in defeat as the sorrow shook her, wiping out everything else. "Mother, I should have come sooner. I should have saved you. I should have-"

"Hush now. My little girl has become so strong," Lleandra whispered and gave her daughter one last smile, full of love and adoration. "I love you. You've always made me so proud."

As she spoke her last words, whatever magic had kept her alive seemed to disappear from the disfigured flesh, leaving nothing but a corpse in Hawke's hands, a corpse that had been destroyed and mauled by the force of magic. Sob after sob rippled through Hawke as she buried her face in the cold, lifeless flesh, her sorrow so deep that Fenris could hardly bear to watch it. After what felt like a lifetime, he walked up behind her and kneeled down, uncertainly placing a hand on her shoulder.

"Hawke, we need to leave," he said quietly.

The mage shook her head, unwilling to look at him. "I can't leave Mother," she replied through her tears as she continued to cling to the body.

Fenris sighed. He wished he was better in these situations. All he could do was hope that he could somehow appeal to her reason. "Your mother is gone, and you know that," he insisted patiently. "You need to leave this place. You need to go home."

"Fenris, you don't understand," Hawke replied, anger and frustration in her voice. "I can't go home. Not without Mother. She is still there somewhere, I know it. I cannot lose her, not after losing Carver. She's still there. Perhaps Anders can-"

"Are you going to run to that abomination for help?" The elf growled in disbelief. "After everything you've just seen, you would be willing to-"

"I will take your mother's body out of here, Hawke," Aveline suddenly interrupted him as she knelt on Hawke's other side. The Guard-Captain looked at the mage and gently took her hand. "You need to leave this place. You need to tell Gamlen what's happened," she said slowly, looking into Hawke's eyes.

"Gamlen," Hawke echoed with a sigh, nodding slowly at her friend's words. She closed her eyes and wiped her face with the back of her hand. "Gamlen needs to know."

"I will take you to him," Fenris offered, grateful for Aveline's intervention. "Come here."

Hawke's strength seemed to be slipping away from her quickly as she merely nodded, slowly releasing her grip on her mother's corpse. He helped her get up by steadying her with his arms, and when she could no longer walk he picked her up and carried her out of the pit. Her sorrow did not grant her the mercy of unconsciousness, her tears slowly falling down his armour. Fenris continued to carry her, making his way to her Hightown mansion. The journey back was a blur. People on the street parted before them without question after seeing his deadly stare, and Aveline's threatening presence assured there would be no trouble. Hawke's pained whispers rung in his ears as he carried her in silence, not knowing what to say. Where could he find the words to comfort her?

As they reached her mansion, Gamlen ran out to greet them, eager to hear of any news regarding their search. Fenris had to awkwardly excuse himself, slipping quietly into Hawke's library while she told her uncle the devastating news. It was not long before he heard her only still living relative storm out of the mansion. He silently pondered whether he should do the same and leave Hawke to her grief – surely he would merely get in the way. And yet he could not bring himself to walk out so cowardly, once again, without at least attempting to say something to Hawke, no matter how awkward it would be. She had relied on his support during this frightful night. He could not let her down now.

Slowly he made his way up the stairs to Hawke's bedroom. He could hear Orana's quiet sobbing somewhere, as well as the concerned whispers of Bodahn and his son, Sandal. Not a single sound seemed to be coming out of Hawke's bedroom, and it worried him. As he entered it, he saw her sitting on the edge of the bed while wearing a robe, her armour thrown at her feet. A basin of water was placed next to her. She was holding a cloth and dipping it in water, slowly removing the bloodstains that were covering her skin.

He stood awkwardly and watched her for a moment, as she did not seem to acknowledge his presence. "Do you want me to call in Orana to help you?" He asked after a while.

"No," she replied quietly and ran the cloth over her arms, allowing it to soak up the blood and grit from her skin. She twinged as she discovered a splinter that was stuck in her arm; she pulled it out quickly and threw it into the basin.

Fenris shifted his weight slightly. "Do you want me to leave?"

"No," she said again and turned to look at him. The despair on her face was heart-breaking.

He approached her slowly and sat down next to her. "I'm not very good at knowing what to say in these situations, as you already know," he pointed out after a moment of silence.

Hawke dropped the cloth back in the basin and sighed as she closed her eyes. "I know."

Fenris glanced at her sideways and cleared his throat. "They say that death is only a journey," he tried weakly, realising how ridiculous his words sounded just as they were leaving his mouth. "Does that help?"

To his surprise, she didn't turn around and call him an idiot. Instead, she pulled up her knees and wrapped her arms around them. "That's true I suppose," she said with a soft sigh as she stared into the flames of the recently kindled fire. "They say that when we die we return to the Maker," she added.

"I've heard that too." "Fenris followed her gaze. The flames crackled merrily, licking away at the dry wood. A spark shot off occasionally, floating in the air for a moment before it was extinguished. "To be perfectly honest, I don't think there's any point in filling these moments with empty talk," he finally said. "But for what it's worth... you are not alone."

Together they watched the fire until it turned into glowing embers. When her sorrow gripped her once more, he put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close.


	18. Chapter 18

**Author's Note:** Long chapter is long, but it felt wrong to split it up and it had to cover a lot of story. I've included some physical descriptions of my Hawke here, my apologies if some of you might not like it. I can't help imagining her the way she is in my head. Again, thank you for reading!

**Disclaimer:** Fenris, Hawke and all other characters in this story are owned by Bioware. I'm just here to play with them.

**Wolf Unchained, Chapter 18  
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In her dream, Hawke was back in Lothering. She wandered barefoot through the streets of the village in her night robe, silence haunting her steps. She walked past the fields where her family had laboured to make a living, past the bridge she used to hide under when she and Carver played hide-and-seek. The village was completely abandoned and an eerie, ghostly stillness surrounded everything. A thick layer of ash covered the surface of the unpaved roads, yet all of the houses remained completely untouched. Hawke wandered through the village like a ghost, her steps slowly but inexorably guided by an invisible force. When she reached the house she used to live in, she knew her goal had been reached.

She pushed the door open, expecting the familiar whine of hinges. She heard nothing. "Hello?" She whispered timidly as she walked into the living room. All of it looked just like it had when they had left Lothering, never to return. Bethany's clothes were still scattered on the floor; Mother had tried to pack some things as they were leaving but the darkspawn horde had completely caught them by surprise. They had escaped with nothing but their lives to their name. Mother always said she was glad it had happened after Father had passed away. It would have broken his heart to abandon the home he had built for them with his own two hands. Mother had always...

_Mother..._

Suddenly Hawke turned right, running up the rickety stairs to the second floor, quickly finding her way to the door she knew she had been meant to open. Maybe... maybe this house was not empty after all.

She took a deep breath and grabbed the handle to the bedroom door. The bedroom her Mother and Father had shared during the happiest time of their lives, where Marian and Bethany liked to sit and tell each other stories while Carver was out playing with sticks in the yard.

She pushed the door and let it open wide, revealing what lay inside. Or rather, what didn't lay inside.

An empty void stared back at her from beyond the doorway, dark and silent and full of intent. _Come to me, _the void whispered savagely in her ear._ Come to me, come inside, and I will bring your Mother and Father back to you. And Carver, your precious Carver... And Bethany, your dear sister... They are all here, waiting for you Marian. Come, come inside and greet them. Step inside and become one of us._

Hawke swallowed and shook her head, taking a hesitant step away from the doorway. "No," she whispered hoarsely, her heart thumping wildly in her chest. "You don't have my Mother. You don't have anything. You _are_ nothing."

_That's not true Hawke,_ the empty void hissed in her ear and laughed. It seemed to be pressing outward, slowly engulfing the frame of the door, gaining on her. _We are something very special, and we are a part of you. You cannot run from us, Marian. Can you run from yourself? Can you run from your loneliness, now that Mother is gone? Can you run from your pain, knowing that you couldn't save her, just like you couldn't save Carver? Can you-_

"Shut up!" Hawke screamed. "I don't want to hear anymore!" She slammed the door shut, turned around to run away-

And woke up in her bed in her Hightown mansion.

"Hawke?" A quiet voice spoke from the shadows, startling her even further. Oh Maker, she was absolutely drenched in sweat. What a horrible dream.

"Who's there?" She called out weakly. She didn't know how many more surprises she could handle. She squinted to peek into the corner the voice was coming from. The room was covered in thickening shadows, the fire in the hearth almost extinguished.

"It's me," the voice replied as Fenris' lithe frame emerged from the shadows. "I thought I'd... watch over you for a while. Make sure you get some sleep. Is everything alright?"

Hawke blinked and stared at him, her mind suddenly racing with worry, her thoughts flying through her head like darts that couldn't quite find their marks. There was something she wasn't remembering, something that she should know, something that had happened, to her, or someone close to her...

"Thank you," she whispered. "That was... very kind of you...You didn't have to."

The elf shrugged and looked away, absent-mindedly rubbing his back before he stifled a yawn. "I didn't mind," he said before hastily adding, "I should get back to my house though, let you sleep some more." He moved toward the door, opening it quietly before glancing in her direction once more. "Take care of yourself, Hawke. I'm here if you need me."

He was out the door before she could even respond to thank him once more and ask why he suddenly seemed so concerned about her_. Maker damn that elf and his sudden vanishing acts_, she thought to herself. Their relationship had been improving somewhat lately because she had aided him with his reading, but he had not expressed such emotion in years, at least not to her. She shrugged and ran her fingers through her hair, pulling the covers back up around her and trying to not think about the terrible dream. In the dream the strange darkness had said such terrible things to her, telling her that she was all alone, now that...

_Now that Mother was gone..._

She opened her eyes and remembered everything. She laughed hollowly into the pillow, the laughter quickly fading into nothing but tremors. Now she realised why Fenris had been comforting her.

Laying there in the dark and contemplating her mother's death, Hawke thought of the few days she had spent locked inside her room, after the night Fenris had vanished from her bedroom under very different circumstances. At some point Lleandra had tried getting inside, and despite Hawke's stubborn refusal to see anyone, her mother had not taken no for an answer. When Hawke had finally relented and opened the door, her mother surprised her by simply offering her something hot to drink and asking if there was anything she could do. Hawke had been so grateful to her for not asking any questions, not pestering her or giving her advice she wouldn't be able to handle. Mother had simply told Marian that she wasn't alone, that she was there for her in case she needed her. And for that Marian had loved her.

Now she really was alone. Bethany, taken so tragically in the early parts of their journey to Kirkwall... Carver dying in her arms in the Deep Roads... And now Mother, taken by a psychopathic blood mage and turned into a monstrosity. In a moment of self-pity Hawke briefly wondered if she was cursed, but the thought was dismissed from her mind almost immediately. She couldn't afford to think like that, not when so many fates constantly seemed to rest on her shoulders. It was only her and Gamlen now. The last two pieces of living proof that the Amell line still existed. _Except..._

Her thoughts flickered over to Fenris as she contemplated the way he had consoled her yesterday. Despite knowing him almost seven years, the elf was still a mystery to her, a puzzle she was still looking to solve, a challenge that she could not abandon. After he had left her on that night all those years ago, only one line had constantly played through her head, repeating itself over and over again until she couldn't hear anything else.

_This never should have happened_, he had said. To Hawke, those were the words that had hurt her the most, that had caused her to lock herself away for a time, from everything and everyone. She had always known that her attraction to Fenris had been a disaster in the making, and yet she had never been able to control her emotions enough to even consider not following through with them. Her feelings were so tightly linked to her magic, and both had always led her forward through life like an unstoppable hurricane, for better and for worse. And Fenris... He had always been at the centre of that hurricane, standing strong and unflinching in the face of the devastation she wreaked. Challenging her to become a better mage, to lead by example in a city where superstition and doubt reigned supreme.

After that fateful night, she had expected him to leave Kirkwall and to never return. To her surprise he had chosen to stay without giving an explanation for his decision. It had been difficult to be around him at first; the awkwardness had been so palpable that she was certain everyone else knew exactly what had happened between them. It should have been so easy to free him of his self-imagined debt to her, to remove him from her sight and hopefully out of her mind as well. But it wasn't. Months had continued to roll by and Hawke had realised that despite everything that had happened, she could not find the strength to let him go. She could not find the words, the courage to look him in the eyes and tell him that he was no longer needed. How could she tell such blatant lies when her entire being screamed the opposite?

_This never should have happened,_ the voice had reminded her time and time again. But she had refused to believe. She started taking pleasure in the little things – watching him slowly but surely improve on his reading and writing with her assistance, being able to rely on his strength and talent on the battlefield, being able to watch him unobtrusively over a game of Diamondback at The Hanged Man. The wounds began to heal with time, and things got better again. Somehow, she wasn't sure how, she knew that Fenris would always be there for her. Just like yesterday, when she had needed him the most.

A soft smile began playing on her lips. She pulled the covers tighter around her, curling into a ball as she slowly began to relax again.

Perhaps she was not so alone after all.

_A few weeks later, in Fenris' mansion..._

The message was short and to the point, scribbled in childlike writing that was not so very different from his own, inexperienced words.

"_Dear Brother,_

_I have come to Kirkwall to meet you. Please come to The Hanged Man. I will be waiting for you there._

_Varania."_

The letter had arrived to Fenris' mansion only this morning, but the small piece of parchment had already been folded, unfolded and re-read over a dozen times. Now he paced in front of the fireplace impatiently as he read it one more time, saying the words out loud in the empty room.

"I have come to Kirkwall to meet you," he whispered and closed his eyes. Could it really be true? Could his sister really be here, in this very city? It seemed too good to be true. In fact, it positively had to be too good to be true. It had to be a trap, and he could only think of one person who could be behind it.

"Danarius," he hissed to himself before continuing his pacing, his sister's note clutched in his hands. His old Master surely had to be behind this, he could see no alternative. _And yet.._. He stopped for a moment and sighed, resting his hands against the mantelpiece. He could not ignore the possibility that the letter was indeed from his sister. What if she was at The Hanged Man, right now, waiting for his arrival? How long would she wait before she would decide that he wasn't going to come, and return to Minrathous?

Sebastian's words suddenly rang in his hears, the words he had spoken a long time ago during a heartfelt conversation in the Chantry. "_Family is important_," The Prince had said. "_More important than you could ever imagine... Either way, at least you will know the truth."_

His friend was right. He had to find out, one way or the other.

The abrupt knock on the door almost made him jump, even though he had been expecting it. He rushed over to the entrance while manoeuvring around a few well-placed obstacles designed to stop any intruders foolish enough to attempt breaking in. There had been a few of those over the years, and he had enjoyed watching them squirm in his traps before he had ended their miserable lives with a short but effective swing of his sword. He had no idea how Hawke constantly managed to avoid every single one of his inventions during her unexpected visits to his house, but it had ceased to surprise him. He wasn't sure what his current guest would think about his security measures however, and so he skilfully disabled the traps before opening the door just a tiny fraction.

"Aveline," he said as he greeted the woman standing outside, slightly breathless from his rushed movements to get there. "What news?"

The Guard-Captain looked from side to side before fixing her gaze on him. "It's nice to see your hospitality is still as wonderful as always, Fenris," she said quietly. "May I come in?"

He widened the opening just enough for Aveline to squeeze through before slamming the door shut behind her. "What news?" He repeated impatiently as he followed her inside the house.

Aveline sighed and dropped her gloves on the one table which had somehow missed Fenris' purge and sat down on the equally fortunate chair next to it. "My guardsmen and I have confirmed it. Your sister is here, in Kirkwall."

Fenris closed his eyes for a moment, allowing the information to sink in. _She's here, she has finally come. _"Are you certain it's her?"

Aveline looked at him as if to say that she found the question insulting. "An elf matching your description on the ship you named," she said slowly before adding, "Alone, as far as I could tell."

The uncertainty of the situation was becoming too much. "As far as you could tell?" Fenris growled and slammed the table with his fist, his frustration finding a small outlet in this gesture. It didn't hurt at all. "Maker be damned Aveline, that's not good enough!"

Aveline looked at him with a measured gaze. "What would you like me to do, Fenris? Read her mind? Check under her bed?" She shook her head and sighed as the tense silence lingered in the air.

Fenris continued growling quietly to himself, gripping the edges of the table with his hands. He was close, so very close to finding his answers, so close to the truth he had been seeking for so long. Then why did he feel so afraid?

"I need to know if it's a trap," he said desperately, his eyes pleading with Aveline.

She stared back resolutely, unflinching in the face of his emotions. "I've done as you've asked, Fenris," she said as she stood up from the table, staring down at the elf. "Now it's up to you to decide."

The approach of quiet footsteps reached them both simultaneously. They did not have to guess who the intruder could be. A few seconds later Marian Hawke emerged from the hallway, mutely taking in the unfolding scene. She was wearing her black battle armour with her staff firmly fastened on her back, her red hair flowing freely over her shoulders.

"You talk to him, Hawke," Aveline said as she turned to leave at Marian's approach, picking up her gloves from the table before giving Fenris one last look. "I've had my fill for today."

The elf stared stubbornly at the wood grain patterns on the table even as he heard the door close behind the Guard-Captain on her way out. The growling came again, unbidden, his anger searching an outlet in a stream of Tevinter curses that ran over his lips.

"_Venhedis! Fasta vass!_" He snarled, pushing the table away from him with a quick jerk.

"Is that Tevinter?" Hawke asked curiously as she grabbed the edge of the table and turned it around. "Maybe you could teach me a few things sometime. Maybe how to say 'How are you', or 'How do you do', or perhaps 'Stop doing that or I will fry your brains with my magic'," she joked softly as she sat down on the chair Aveline had occupied only a moments ago, stretching her legs in front of her. "I'm surprised that poor table is still standing after all the trashing you've given it. I wouldn't mind getting you a new one for your birthday, but you would definitely have to treat it better than that poor old thing."

Fenris looked at her with a mixture of anger and disbelief, momentarily lost for words. If it had been anyone else sitting there joking while his insides were churning with worry, he would have them killed or thrown out, or both. But it was Hawke and he was still glad she was here, even if she was infuriating him. As the silence between them dragged out, the mage sighed and threw up her hands.

"Alright Fenris, I give up. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have jested like that. Just trying to lighten the mood, I guess." Her gaze softened as she looked at him. "Tell me what's wrong."

He sighed, knowing he could not refuse her. "It's my sister," he finally said as he stared down at his hands. "I didn't tell you, but I followed up on the information Hadriana gave me. Everything ehe said turned out to be true."

Hawke raised an eyebrow. "She's real? Did you track her down?"

Fenris nodded, quietly grateful that she did not accuse him of keeping secrets. With things being so awkward between them, he had never quite found the right words to explain his quest to her. "It wasn't easy and it took a lot of time and money, but I found her. I sent her a letter and enough coin to come meet me. And now... now she's here," he finished, hardly believing his own words.

Hawke mulled this information over, her fingers dancing across the surface of the table. "Was Hadriana speaking the truth about her being a free elf?"

He nodded again. "The information seems genuine. She worked in Qurinus for a time, in Magister Ahriman's service. She left him later on, and I found her in Minrathous," he explained. "It made things more difficult as I had to make sure Danarius would not get wind of my involvement... but it's just as Hadriana said. She's not a slave... she's a tailor, in fact." He walked over to the other side of the table and grabbed the other chair, slumping into it. "Getting a letter to her wasn't easy," he continued with a sigh as he looked down, his silvery white hair falling across his face like a soft curtain. "She didn't believe me at first. But now she's finally come." Fear dripped from his every word.

"I see," Marian paused before stating the obvious. "And you think it's a trap,"

His fingernails dug into his armour in frustration. "The more it seems he doesn't know the more certain I become that he does," he looked up at her, his green eyes boring into hers. "I know what this looks like, and I must be an idiot to do it. I could very well be walking into Danarius' clutches. But Hawke, whether this is a trap or not..._ either way I have to know_," he echoed Sebastian's words with utter desperation. Not knowing how it happened, his hand shot out and grabbed hers, giving it a tight squeeze. "Come with me Hawke," he asked, the urgency clearly heard in his voice. "If this is a trap, I will need you to be there. To back me up," he added with some hesitation. "She will be at The Hanged Man, for another week at least," he said quickly before he could stop himself. "I know you owe me no favours, but if we-"

"Stop," she interrupted him as she gently returned his squeeze. "You don't have to do this, Fenris. I will come with you." Seeing the unbelieving look on his face, she looked away, tracing the circles on the table with her free hand. "You were there for me when I needed you the most," she said quietly after a while. "What kind of friend would I be if I didn't return the favour?" She glanced up at him and offered him a small smile before she slowly, gently removed her hand from his grasp and stood up. "I will let you gather whoever else you want to come with you. But you can count on me to be there, whenever you're ready."

_You can always count on me._

He heard the words being spoken in his mind, even if she did not say them out loud. He watched her as she left his house, his mind filled with a whirlwind of thoughts.

_Later the same day, at The Hanged Man..._

The inn looked no different from the day Fenris had first arrived to Kirkwall, many years ago. The tables were still covered with grease and ale stains; the patrons were still brawling drunkards who pestered every waitress in sight, and the wooden floor was still barely visible behind the many layers of dirt that covered it. But none of that mattered to Fenris, not tonight. His heart thumped wildly in his chest as he walked into the bar with Hawke, Sebastian and Aveline at his side. Sebastian had agreed to come with him in an instant, so intent on keeping the promise he had made to the elf so many years ago. Aveline had offered her help without him even having to ask for it, despite his outburst at the manor. He was filled with strange, conflicting emotions after hearing their agreement to aid him, realising that these people were willing to risk their lives on his behalf. What had he done to deserve such loyalty from these people?

"Go find her my friend," Sebastian whispered in his ear as they entered the in. Fenris nodded, his eyes desperately searching the crowd for his sister, hoping against hope-

There she was, sitting by herself at a table, a small elven figure in the crowded room, a silhouette that called out to him and filled him an overwhelming sense of sorrow. Painful memories began filling his head at the sight of her, images of a life that had been so drastically taken away from him.

"It really is you," his sister whispered softly as he approached her. She looked up at him with a pale face and wide eyes.

His throat was dry; he stared at her wordlessly as recognition slowly crept up on him. "Varania?," he said, looking at his sister's face. "I... I remember you," he said with wonder, the memories suddenly flowing freely through him. _His dreams during his one night with Hawke, the laughing girl throwing mud in his face, the dogs barking the yard... "_We played in our master's courtyard while Mother worked. You called me..."

"Lito," she said as she stood up. "That is your name." Her face was a mask of calmness, yet something strange seemed to lurk under the surface, something that unsettled Fenris and filled him with dread.

"What's wrong?" He asked apprehensively. "Why are you so-"

"Fenris, we have to get out of here," Hawke hissed at his side and grabbed his arm, making a quick move for the exit. But they were already too late.

"Ah, my little Fenris," a cold voice called loudly from across the inn, turning his insides to ice. The voice that had haunted him for so long, the man who had turned his life into a waking nightmare, the smile he recognised so well and hated with every inch of his being. To an outsider he probably wouldn't have seemed intimidating – he was only a middle aged man with greying hair, wearing no visible protection under the mage robe. To Fenris, he looked like the Archdemon incarnate, brought back from the dead to destroy everything in its path, to sweep away the elf and the pitiful existence he had built for himself here in Kirkwall.

"Predictable as always," Danarius said, smiling as he walked down the steps of the second floor of the inn. A dozen Imperial slave hunters followed his footsteps. The Hanged Man suddenly seemed completely abandoned, its regular patrons swiftly taking their leave like scurrying rats seeking shelter in a storm.

"I'm sorry it came to this Lito," his sister said quietly as she slowly backed away from him.

Fenris was gripped with insane range. All his worst fears had come to pass, and he had allowed himself to believe that he had somehow managed to best his former Master, that he had managed to deceive the man standing in front of him with such a self-assured smile. _What a fool he had been_. He growled and narrowed his eyes as he looked at his sister in new light – as the traitor, the bait, the lure that had brought him out of hiding. Just as Danarius had planned all along. "You led him here," he hissed with fury.

"Now, now, Fenris. Don't blame your sister," Danarius said with a lofty smile on that hated face as he came to stand next to Varenia. "She did what any good Imperial citizen should."

The elf trembled in his rage, furiously shaking his head in the face of the inevitable. "I never wanted these filthy markings, Danarius," he said as he looked into the Magister's eyes, unleashing his loathing upon him. "But I won't let you kill me to get them."

This seemed to amuse his former Master, causing him to chuckle. "Oh, how little you know my pet," he said with a condescending smile that angered Fenris even further. The Magister's eyes wandered curiously over to Hawke, quickly taking stock of her and her companions. "And this is your new mistress, then?" He continued to smile, but it never reached his cold and calculating eyes. "The Champion of Kirkwall? Quite lovely."

Hawke narrowed her eyes and took a tighter grip on her staff, readying herself for battle. "Fenris doesn't belong to anyone," she replied cooly. "Especially a filthy slaver like you."

"Do I detect a note of jealousy, dear Champion?" Danarius smirked with satisfaction. "I'm not surprised. The lad is rather skilled, wouldn't you agree? I can only wonder what kind of services he has been performing for you in my... absence. He always used to be so... dutiful. Isn't that true, my pet?"

"Shut your mouth, Danarius," Fenris snarled and lowered his stance, his anger at being betrayed so completely by his own flesh and blood rising to the surface like a murderous wave. The markings in his skin glowed, singing of quick and painful death for every single one of his pursuers, even if he had to pay for it with his own life. Except for Danarius. He would make sure his death was anything but quick.

_Fenris doesn't belong to anyone,_ she had said so firmly, with so much conviction. Her words rang in his ears as he stared at his former Master, forcing every notion of doubt and fear out of his heart. He had come to Kirkwall, to this City of Chains, to truly become free, to be unchained of his guilt, of his hatred, to stop running once and for all and to stand strong in the face of death. He would not flinch away now. Not with Hawke at his side.

"The word is "master"," Danarius reminded him, concern flashing in his eyes as he backed away into the midst of his guards, sensing the battle that was about to commence.

Fenris barked with laughter that rang with promises of death and demise. "I will run from you no longer, Danarius," he hissed as he grabbed the sword that was fastened on his back, drawing it from its sheath in one smooth movement, feeling the power of lyrium coursing through his veins. "This will be the end of you," he said bitterly as he looked at the Magister with loathing. "Even it means the end of us both."

The inn suddenly erupted into howling madness as Fenris swung his sword into the first guard who was in his way, the sound of a sickening crunch reaching his ears as the blade went through blood and bone alike. Deadly abominations sprung from the ground all around them as Danarius quickly began sacrificing his slaves to feed the power of his blood magic, filling the room with his monstrous creations in a matter of seconds, a skill that would have impressed every Imperium Magister no doubt. Fenris saw nothing but his next enemy in front of him, and then the next, and next, until he had completely lost himself in a blood rage that consumed him, a desire to slaughter everything in his path that took over every ounce of his being. Hawke's benevolent magic aided him as he continued to cut his way through Danarius' minions, Sebastian's arrows raining down upon their foes with surprising accuracy. Aveline kept the slavers at bay, blocking their path to Fenris while he found his way to Danarius, his heart crying out for revenge of the most bloody kind, a final resolution to the cat-and-mouse game that had chased him to this very city. The Tevinter Magister continued to apply his deadly tricks, shielding himself from Fenris' deadly blows with a force field that knocked the elf backward into a wall. Even that did not seem to have any effect on Fenris in his battle rage. He remained relentless in his pursuit, attacking time and time again until Danarius had no choice but to kneel in front of his former slave and beg for his life.

"Fenris," the Magister croaked, holding his hands up weakly in defence as the elf thundered forward, murder in his eyes as he threw his sword away. "Fenris, please..."

His pleas went unheard. Fenris' insides churned with rage as he reached forward, grasping Danarius' neck with his hands and lifting him from the ground, the hatred in his veins once again singing of revenge and blood, revenge and blood, revenge and blood. "You are no longer my master," he growled in all his fury at the man whose life he was finally holding in his hands. Savage pleasure filled him as he snapped the Magister's neck with a practiced motion, throwing his limp and lifeless body to the floor in disgust.

He stared at Danarius' lifeless form, barely aware that Hawke and the others were slowly approaching him. His Master, his tormentor, the bane of his existence lay there on the floor, with blood gushing through his neck as his body convulsed in a final, desperate shake. Danarius had only been human after all, and now Fenris would forever be free of his control. Laying there as he did, he almost looked...

"Pathetic," Fenris laughed with a hint of madness in his voice. Suddenly a flash of movement caught his eye and he raised his head. His sister, the traitor, was cowering on the floor not too far away. The only survivor from their carnage.

"I had no choice Lito," she whispered weakly.

His rage had not left him – not yet. At the sight of her, the fire that had momentarily subsided flared up again inside him. "Stop calling me that," he hissed as he moved forward, approaching her trembling body with swift steps. "That name means nothing to me."

"I had no choice. He was going to make me his apprentice," Varenia continued with unseeing eyes, saying the words like a litany that she repeated to herself many times as if to convince herself that they were true. "I would have been a Magister."

His anger was taking over with familiar swiftness, wiping out all other concerns. "You sold out your own brother to become a Magister?" He growled, his voice full of hatred and disdain.

Varenia shook her head, her eyes filling with tears as she looked up in her brother's murderous face. "You have no idea what we went through," she spoke angrily through her sobs. "What I've had to do since Mother died. This was my only opportunity, my only chance to do something. To _be_ someone."

_Revenge and blood._ "And now you have no chance at all," he said coldly as he felt the killer inside him take over, the familiar blue glow of lyrium surrounding him as he stepped in close to the woman, the child, the sister who had turned out to be nothing but a cowardly traitor.. She deserved to die for what she had done to him, for the choices she had made. She was no better than Danarius, or any of the other Magisters. She was no better than any of them. She deserved their fate.

"Please," Varenia pleaded as she tried moving backwards and hitting a wall, quickly realising that she had nowhere else to go. Fenris approached her slowly but surely, his eyes promising death. "Lito, don't do this." In a moment of desperation she looked at Hawke, meeting her gaze. "Please, tell him to stop," she pleaded as death loomed over her.

"Wait," Hawke called out, halting Fenris' steps. "Fenris, don't kill her," she continued as she rushed forward.

He looked over his shoulder while his blood sang for revenge. "Why not?" He spat. "She was ready to see _me_ killed!" He looked at his sister, nothing but hatred in his eyes. "What is she to me than one more tool of the Magisters?"

Marian shook her head as she listened to him. "_This is your family, Fenris_," she said quietly as she looked at him. Her own sorrow and loss was evident in her eyes.

"Trust me. You do not want to do this," Sebastian echoed Hawke's sentiments quietly, his voice no more than a whisper as he fixed his piercing blue eyes on the elf. "Don't make my mistakes, Fenris. Her death will not bring you the peace you seek."

The anger inside him howled, asking for an outlet, asking to be used as a tool to kill, over and over again. And yet... He could not ignore the truth and concern in their words. Their advice was like a cold bucket of water, slung over his head to wake him up from the rage that had consumed him so completely during the battle. He could feel his shoulders slumping as his lyrium markings turned dormant once more in an instant. He looked down at the quivering elven girl in front of him and saw nothing but a stranger.

"Leave," he said hollowly and immediately she ran from his side, reaching the exit before he could blink. He had almost thought her gone when he heard a voice speaking up behind him, filling his heart with dread as he heard her words.

"You said you didn't ask for this," his sister said to his back. "But that's not true. You wanted it. You competed for it. When you won you used the boon to free Mother and me from slavery."

The tremors of desperation that shook his frame were more violent than he could have imagined. "Why are you telling me this?" He howled as he turned around to face her.

Her voice was cold and unfeeling. "Freedom was no boon," she said bitterly. "I look on you now and think that you received the better end of the deal." The words rang out into the room, leaving a sense of devastation in the air as Varenia turned around and disappeared from the inn, leaving his life forever.

A hollow pain slowly began to fill him, an ache that could not be filled with his usual companions of hatred and regret. He felt like an empty shell, drained of everything that had kept him sustained for so long. When Hawke reached out to comfort him, he instinctively shrugged off her touch.

"I thought discovering my past would bring a sense of belonging," he said dispassionately. "I was wrong. Magic has tainted that too. There is nothing for me to reclaim." He stared blankly ahead, unseeing. "I am alone."

The truth of his words did not comfort him. Everything he had done, the time he had spent searching for his sister, searching for a past that he had been avoiding all along, the dreams he had avoided, the feelings he had run away from for so long... It had all been a waste. It was too much.

"That is not true Fenris," Hawke replied quietly, searching for something in his eyes, anything to bring him out of the emotional slumber he was in. "And you know that. Remember what you said to me, the night my mother died? Do you remember your own words?"

Fenris shook his head, closing his unseeing eyes. "I can't even trust myself anymore, Hawke. You heard what Varenia said. I wanted these markings. I fought for them. I feel unclean, like this magic is not only etched into my skin, but also into my very soul."

Weariness greeted him like an old friend. "Let's go," he finally said as he began stepping over the corpses of slavers to move toward the exit of the inn. "I need to get out of here."


	19. Chapter 19

****Wolf Unchained, Chapter 19**  
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The cool, fresh night breeze rustled his hair as he stepped out of The Hanged Man, leaving death and devastation behind him. He picked up his stride quickly, moving through the quiet and deserted streets of Kirkwall as swift as a shadow. He was nothing more than a brief flash of white on the darkened city background, his bare feet barely touching the cold and muddy ground as he ran. The night enveloped him in its black embrace and he gave into it like a child seeking the comfort of his mother's touch. The night was his mother, his friend, his ally. He turned to the night in his moment of need, his thoughts flying through his head like frightened birds.

Danarius was no more, dead at his hands. The man who had tormented him, who had haunted his dreams, his every waking moment... this man, this monster was no more. And with his demise, Fenris' own rage also seemed to be departing, leaving his body slowly like an old friend, hesitant to depart but still knowing that it was time to let go.

_Time to let go_, a voice whispered in his head as he ran like the wind, just another fleeting shadow in the night, another creature without a home, without a purpose. A storm was coming, he could smell it in the air, and he ran toward it, seeking solace in the madness and chaos it promised.

"How can I do that?" Fenris whispered to himself, his eyes glowing fiercely in the dark. His heart thudded strangely in his chest, a living creature that was trying to break out of its cage. "How can I let go?"

_Time to let go_, it whispered again. His lyrium marks burned in protest as he suddenly came to a halt, finding himself on the rocky shores of the Wounded Coast. The wind had picked up and large waves were crashing against the rocks with great momentum, showering him with their saltwater kisses every time they broke up against the shore. He looked out across the raging sea to the darkened horizon. A black sky met him, full of threatening clouds that seemed to be ready to swallow him whole.

He stared back at the storm unflinchingly as lightning flashed across the sky, his defiant posture a mocking sight in the face of nature's rage.

Lito had been the name Varenia had called him. Somewhere in the back of his mind he remembered this now, a long forgotten memory of a small boy who used to play in the mud with his sister while his mother prepared supper. Lito had once been his name, his real name. _The name of a boy who once was, but who was no more. _

This memory no longer enraged him. His anger was slipping from his fingers like grains of sand, disappearing into the howling wind. He was a boy no longer, nor was he a slave. He had taken his revenge, and his revenge had also taken him. Every part of him that had once mattered, every bitter thought, every drop of enemy blood, every touch of a lover's hand...

The elf who had sought and found his freedom now sank to his knees on the rocky shore. His head slumped forward as he inhaled deeply and howled in despair, his cries going unheard in the deafening storm that surrounded him, his tears mixing with the salt of the sea. He gave it all to the storm, everything that had once been his purpose, everything that had kept him alive all these years, the anger and hate that had sustained him for so long and yet poisoned every aspect of his life. He shed it all like second skin, throwing it away into the raging night, watching it disappear in the churning black waters of the sea.

He did not know how long the storm raged, but once it had subsided he realised that he was not alone. He wrapped his arms around his knees as he stared out across the sea, listening to her quiet approach. The wind had died down and the sky was slowly turning brighter once more. The sea was beginning to lose its ferocity, its waves slowly retreating from the shore. The first signs of dawn were appearing on the horizon and the moon was beginning to wane.

She sat down behind him without saying a word. After a little while he could feel her fingers, gently running across his back. Her touch was warm and loving against his cold white skin.

_Time to let go_, a voice whispered to him from somewhere far away, some forgotten dark void he could no longer remember.

"Hawke," he whispered hoarsely and closed his eyes.

"Shh," she said as she ran her fingers through his hair. "It's going to be alright, Fenris. It's going to be alright."

This time he did not flinch away.

* * *

><p>They returned to his house together, walking quietly side by side. The streets of Kirkwall were quiet. Most of its inhabitants were still sound asleep in their beds as they awaited the light of morning. Fenris felt weak and exhausted, drained from the storm and everything it had taken away from him, and yet at the same time he was strangely elated. He was not alone.<p>

Hawke walked beside him, a small fragile figure who evenly kept his pace in silence. He glanced awkwardly in her direction as they walked, flexing his fingers nervously as he clenched and unclenched his fist. His heart was thudding again in his chest, for entirely different reasons this time. A small growl escaped his chest and he could feel her eyes on him as they entered Danarius' mansion, a house whose owner was truly never going to return to it again. He paced over the fireplace, a few embers still glowing dully in the hearth.

He stared stubbornly at the mantelpiece, his heart beating like a wild animal that he had no control over. He turned around and there she was, standing in the middle of the room and observing him with a small smile on her lips, gazing straight into his black soul.

"_Festis bei umo canavarum__,"_ Fenris growled quietly and looked away.

"More Arcanum, Fenris? What does it mean?" she queried as she fidgeted slightly with her gown.

He closed his eyes and smiled in spite of himself. "It means you will be the death of me, Hawke," he replied with a growl as he walked up to her with a few easy and quick strides, taking her swiftly into his arms by surprise.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Hawke cried out as he pulled her close.

His blood boiled in his veins as he looked down into her startled blue eyes. "I'm not staying away from you Hawke, that's what I'm doing. Listen to me. Six years ago I decided to stay with you because I owed you," he growled as he held her to his chest, keeping her arms firmly in place even though she was putting up some signs of struggle. "But also in part because I thought you could help me – and you have. But you have also done much more than that."

"And holding me captive like this is your way of thanking me?" She hissed as she struggled to get out of his iron grasp. "Let me go, Fenris, right now! Don't think I'm not willing to conjure up a fireball and shove it up your-"

He laughed and kissed her firmly on the lips, silencing her incoming protests as he held her head to his, tasting her mouth with pleasure. A warm shiver ran down his spine as her struggles subsided, her warm body now willingly pressing into his as her arms coiled around him. It was all the answer he needed, everything he was looking for. Now that he knew that she still wanted him, even after all this time, his heart surged with happiness and gratitude. His tongue explored her mouth with confidence as he held her close, drinking in the taste of her, realising that he had never wanted anything as much as he wanted, _needed_ this woman. This mage who didn't give up on him, even when she had every reason to. Who had been there in his darkest moments to guide him through to the light.

It took all of his self-control to remember that there had been something he had wanted to say, something he needed to explain to this woman before he lost all self-control.

"We, uhm, never spoke about what happened that night," he whispered against her skin between their feverish kisses. "That night three years ago."

She sighed softly against his neck and looked up into his eyes. "You didn't want to talk about it," she said sincerely with a small shrug.

He moved his hand leisurely through her soft hair and closed his eyes for a moment before stepping away from her with a small sigh. He had to move away to collect his thoughts, to grasp for fleeting words that seemed to disappear in a rush of emotion.

"I felt like a fool," he said as he gazed into her eyes. "That night.. I still remember it as if it was yesterday. It has haunted me ever since. I thought..", he sighed and shook his head, memories filling him of the turmoil he had experienced, the confusion, the fear of losing himself to something he had once thought was so dangerous. "I thought it would be better if you hated me," he smiled wanly as he looked at her, pleading for her understanding. "I deserve no less, I know that. But it doesn't make it any better. It doesn't change how I feel." He reached out and took her hand in his, gently running his thumb over her knuckles. "Hawke, I've been a coward. I should have asked for your apology a long time ago. I should have-"

Hawke sighed and looked down on their joint hands, giving his a gentle squeeze. "Fenris..," she whispered as her small fingers grasped his. "I'm not going to stand here and pretend that I know what you have – and still are - going through. We all have our own battles to fight, and you... you have fought your battle for a very long time." She looked up at him with a small smile. "And I know how much it has cost you. How much it has taken out of you. I think you are many things Fenris, but I don't think you are a coward."

She motioned him over to the armchair by the fireplace. As he sat down on it, Hawke leaned against its edge, keeping their hands together. "When I came to Kirkwall, I thought I had to prove myself to the world, to everyone I met. I wanted to put my mark on this town. I wanted to prove to everyone that I could control my magic, that I could help people with it instead of causing the chaos and carnage everyone expected of me."

Fenris stiffened at her words, but she squeezed his hand reassuringly. "I wanted to do everything I could to prove people wrong," she continued. "And I guess in some ways I have. But it has cost me," she whispered softly and smiled again, blinking away some moisture in her eyes. "It has cost me dearly." She gazed down at him. "Bethany, Carver, Mother...They are all gone now."

"Hadriana and Danarius," Fenris whispered their names, no longer feeling the pangs of hatred at the thought of them. They were ghosts who now belonged to the past. "And my sister. I thought that finding her would open up a whole new world to me, but now that is gone as well. I can't get it back."

"You can Fenris," Hawke said quietly as she stroked his hair. "We can get it back. Together."

He pulled her into his lap with one swift motion. "I'm not sure if I even want that anymore," he mused as he put his arms around her waist. "I am not that boy anymore.. I haven't been for a long time. And I think I'm tired of looking for my past," he looked into her eyes and smiled. "I want to find a future."

Hawke snuggled closer into his lap. "Well, this might be something I could possibly help you with. For a price," she added smugly. "The price being your undying love and affection, of course."

"Marian Hawke," Fenris laughed warmly and squeezed her. "No woman has ever made me feel so foolish."

"You sure? Not even when Isabela beat you thrice in a row at Diamondback without cheating?" Hawke raised an eyebrow and smiled at him.

He grinned and shook his head. "No, not even then. You make me feel incredibly foolish because... Because I was a fool to ever fear you. Your magic is not something to be feared. It's something to be admired. And trust me, I never thought I would say this to a mage for as long as I was alive."

"Trust me, it is something to be feared when I can promise to shove a fireball up your-"

"And I was a fool to ever run away from you," he added quickly with a grin as he squeezed her, entwining his fingers with hers. "I should have told you how I felt that night. If I could turn back time, I would."

"You don't need to turn back time, Fenris," she smiled as she brushed her lips against his. "You can tell me now."

He took her head in his hands and gazed into her eyes. "Nothing is worse than the thought of living without you Hawke," he whispered against her mouth before he kissed her, unable to contain himself. "Do you think you will ever be able to forgive me for what I've done, Hawke? For being such a hopeless, stupid elf?"

Her lips opened up to him willingly, eagerly. He could hear her heart beating against his chest, and it was almost as loud as his own. "I already forgave you a long time ago, you silly elf," she smiled against his skin.

His grip around her waist tightened and he gazed into the eyes of the mage who had captured his heart. "If there is a future to be had, I will walk into it gladly at your side," he whispered as he kissed her and held her close, squeezing her to his chest. "Fireballs and all."

"Oh there is a future Fenris, be sure of that," she smiled as her hands rubbed the back of his neck. "There's tomorrow, and there's the day after tomorrow, and the day after that," she kissed his throat, spreading warmth across his skin as her lips travelled along his neck. "But as far as I'm concerned, there's absolutely nothing wrong with the present either," she laughed quietly while running her fingers through his hair, making him lean into her touch. "After all, you've made me wait long enough."

Fenris shook with laughter. "Oh have I?" He grinned at her as he picked her up without a moment's notice and carried her up the stairs and into his bedroom, making her squirm pleasantly in his arms. "I suppose I better do something about that then," he smiled as he gently placed her down on his bed. His eyes ran over her body and a sudden nervousness gripped him. Surely this couldn't be happening to him? Surely she didn't actually still want him? She should be running away from him, or be furious with him, he had been such an idiot for all these years, and he-

"Fenris," Hawke said as she stretched lithely across the bed and started unbuttoning her gown, a lovely collection of silk materials that had been terribly damaged and muddied in the night's storm. "A little help here please?" Her eyes found his and she gave him a smile that gave him the encouragement he needed.

He swallowed the lump in his throat and sat down on the bed on his knees, slowly beginning to untangle and remove Hawke's wet items of clothing, one by one. His fingers, which were usually so steady and assured when holding the grip of his blade and slicing open an enemy's throat felt weak and flimsy when undressing this incredible woman in his bed. When he was finally done all he could do was stare down at her unbelievingly. Was she really here? Or was this some sort of final terrible torment, a waking dream, a conjurer's trick?

She saw the look in his eyes and it made her blush. "Fenris, is something wrong?" She pulled the covers over her body. "Am I... is it... not how you remember?"

He shook his head weakly and began unclasping his bloodied armour, moving as if he was in a daze. He placed each padded piece of metal gently next to the bed, taking his time with each movement in order to compose his thoughts. When he crawled back into bed he shuddered at the feel of Hawke's bare skin against his.

"What's wrong?" She asked once again as she placed a hand on his chest.

He looked at her and tried to find the words. "I think you are too beautiful to be real," he finally said in his quiet, deep voice while her hands moved over his body, making him shiver with pleasure at her every touch. "Hawke. I am... not worthy."

She was kissing one of the lyrium marks on his chest as he spoke, making his heart beat faster with every kiss. "No Fenris," she smiled as she leaned against him, her body so soft and smooth and full of warmth. "I am not the beautiful one here. You are. My little wolf," she laughed against his skin as he suddenly overthrew her and pinned her down in the bed, moving firmly against her.

_Demons and conjurers be damned,_ he thought. _She is real. And she is mine._

"All yours," he growled softly and covered her mouth with a deep kiss. His heart was a wild beast, howling inside him with thunderous joy.

* * *

><p>He woke up in Hawke's arms. Night had fallen upon Kirkwall while they had made love, slept, and made love again. He had dreamt about her while he had been sleeping, and every time he woke he wanted to make love to her again to make sure she was actually here and not some figment of his wild imagination. When he told her that, she laughed and said they should make love again just to be sure.<p>

Sometimes he could feel her fingers gently tracing his lyrium markings while he was sleeping. It was the most comforting feeling in the world. It was hard to remember that there had been a time when he had feared her touch. Now there was nothing he enjoyed more.

Soft moonlight lit up the room through the shutters, casting soft light upon Hawke's curved features as she lay snoozing on her side next to him. He smiled down at her while she slept, gently running his fingers through the soft strands of her hair. He knew now that he could never leave her side, never abandon her. He knew that he would die for her if necessary, protect her with his life until the very end. He was no longer a slave, but a free elf. An elf free to care, free to give, free to love. The revenge he had taken upon his enemies faded in comparison with the amazing gift this woman had presented him, given freely of her own will even when he was too stupid to realise, too afraid to care, too ignorant to accept what she was offering.

"You have set me free, Hawke," he whispered to her quiet, sleeping form. "You set me free the day we met."

Her warm body pressed a bit closer against his as she mumbled something in her sleep. He smiled and held her close, watching over her as he listened to the sounds of the city. Someone was getting drunk, someone was getting stabbed. Someone was more than likely going to die. But it wouldn't be him, and it certainly wouldn't be Hawke. Not tonight.

Night had set once again on Kirkwall, the City of Chains, and that was alright with him. Night was when predators felt most alive after all.

THE END

AN: So this is it, this is my story about Fenris. It's taken me a long time to finish this, and I know that I've kept some of you waiting for a long time, but at least I got there in the end, right? I have really, really enjoyed writing about Fenris, and I think he is an amazing character. I hope you will think that I have done him justice, at least in some small way. Who knows, I might write about him some more, but this felt like an appropriate ending for this particular fic. So there we are - 73,435 words later (in Word, anyway). Thank you to all of you who followed, favourited and reviewed this story. Your encouragement made me keep going - and again, I am so sorry it took me so long to finally get there.

Also, this chapter was written while listening to the "Century Child" album by Nightwish. It seemed very appropriate. :) Thank you all!


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